my mother

AUTHOR Lucilla Trapazzo

My mother is sitting next to me at the doctor’s My mother is here and she's not really here. She's missing some pieces. One day she lost her teeth, then her hearing. She lost a breast, a lung, her hair.

My mother lost the trains the buttons and her mother and the childhood.

One day my mother lost a son (other she let them go)

My mother holds her name in her pocket It once was worth banners. A country has my mother and a house overflowing with butterflies. My mother has three birds; she keeps them tied to her side with cords of various colors. When the wind rises, they hit her flank in attempt of a flight.

My mom has rhinestone bars and smoke volutes among her asbestos hair. My mom has a crease on her face and a padlock. My mother has a pain and a rosary. A branch planted on her neck and an empty grave between her father and her mother

My mother has three daughters and better verses than mine.

My mother is in the mirror, and she looks me in the eyes