MATERNAL CURSE
It must be a curse in my maternal blood.
Passed to my mother from my grandmother,
and her mother beyond.
The reason for all that is wrong,
the palms always cradling blame,
the branch that is always broken.
This curse runs deep,
a generational ache bending
every bone I keep.
I’m still catching every fault
that falls from our family tree,
scrambling to gather the pieces
left unfinished by the women before me.
Twenty years into this misery,
and it’s already eaten through my marrow –
the same hunger that’s had
my mother,
my grandmother,
and her mother before,
breaking bones
for centuries.
