10. After That My Mother Was Always Pregnant
After That My Mother Was Always Pregnant
Gone were the days
where she brushed my hair
and sung me lullabies.
Gone were the moments
where she joined me for walks
on the golden sands at sunset.
I saw so little of her now.
She spent most of her time
with my aunts, talking about children,
while my brothers grew craggy
like the cliffs they played on,
hands like bedrock.
None of them wanted
to play with an older sister,
which suited me.
I liked the pleasure
of my own company.
But late at night
while my brothers
snored in their rooms,
growing the way divinity grows,
quickly, quicker than me.
I would put my arms
around myself in my bed,
trying to remember
what my mother’s embrace
felt like back
when I was her only child.
Back when it was just
her and me.