mother as woman

The heat from her stomps scorch the house, Rousing Mediator Father from his respite. He’ll put her out with water first, Before needing to smother me with a blanket. Good, don’t interrupt my recuperating time, I’m gracefully licking wounds, soldiering forth, Making lunch, strong and persevering. I put on the bravest face I can muster. He doesn’t check for cuts and bruises though I offer them up. But instead searches my eyes for any lingering veracity, He asks if I like my mother.

Not love, like.

Like her being, her presence

Like her as human, her as woman

Lillian Smith (she/her)