{a native delaware cactus.}
white lifeboat // original poem
the titanic went down;
two life boats floating.
my mother just sat there, staring.
“mom, I’ve got to get going — now.”
i can’t try
and move you.
i can’t sing
rowrowrow
the boat
no more.
my heart will go on
mother!
i have to leave
this mess
behind.
the ship has sank!
mother!
the waves;
they won’t budge you
when it’s grinding me
to sand.
mommy!
my
roots rotting
soil drenched in shame.
wheres this fruit you promised me?
all I see is endless ocean.
mom!
i can’t scream
any louder;
telling me i am bipolar,
for just wanting
to be heard.
mother, where do you think we are?
mother, how could you?
am i delusional for saying
the ship sank?
that it went down.
that we survived.
mother!
don’t tell me not to rock the boat
when we need to leave.
mother,
this time I am really leaving.
mother,
i can’t hear you.
any
longer.
mother,
silence is my favorite sound,
thank you for the pain;
it’s instrumental to my
art.
i’ll rock the boat
without you
as i row row row
— away.
mother,
i’ll talk to whoever
i wish you were
in private.
because
safety wasn’t
tying me down
on a sinking
ship.
mother,
you told me
i could have died.
why?
i sat next to you in that lifeboat
because I earned it.
untied the straps
that held me down.
mother,
i paid my dues.
and so did you.
mother,
we once were in the same
fucking boat.
You stayed,
I left.
i’ll always wish
i didn’t have to say
goodbye.
in this lifetime.