Whether I am running hard enough to cause the earth to shake, or standing firm in a warrior’s pose, I should honor my legs. Ready to defend; ready to attack. I am growing out like a plant, and my shoes were all made in China by famished children, who dream of golden chariots. Something has ended, but what is new cannot push through. I am like a snake that needs help shedding its skin.
Angelina draws pictures of babies in coffins, and I think, what a good mother I have become. She speaks of the whispers she does not hear, but wants to. We look at the moon together, we laugh at the same volume, we dance like convulsing monkeys. Oh, what a good mother I have become. She chooses black, because she thinks it is my favorite color. She says she wants to be like me, but also like herself. She does not like to read, and she will not eat her vegetables. What a good mother I have become.
Sometimes, you invest so much, but see no return. You want it all, and watch as someone eats it whole. Wide-eyed incredulity will only make a woman look like a porcelain doll. Do not look up to anyone, or they will think themselves your sun, and burn right through you.