Mama

Where were you?
Where were you when I was on the couch
                           spread-legged
				     and shivering?
			when he had his hands 
				 around my wrists
				      and his lips
				 around my cock?
			when he held me down
				with all his weight?
		when I was helpless
                               like a premature child
         and he was a disappointed father
              who felt he had the right
	        to pull the plug?
			when he sneered at my monosyllabic outcry
			          and frenzied himself with more
                                                           imminent carnalities?
Were you aware that your little boy was dying
					in the living room,
			                    all alone beside a
						demon
				      with a gap-toothed grin
                                              and a hidden agenda
that finally rose to the surface 
on that hazy day in April?
Exactly what essential matter took precedence?
             Your overlong work day?
              Your son’s being just-short-of-perfection?
	     Your broken plumbing leaking onto the floor?
                 Your bladder’s insistent call for some kind of relief?
I assure you
          I had to work harder than you that day.
           I lost any hope of achieving perfection forever.
	  I was broken in two and the child I was oozed out .
	   I had an ache in my crotch that yours couldn’t compare to. 
Mama
Where were you that day?
It was when I was forced to learn for myself
                  that you would not always be there to save me.	 

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