Tuesday, January 12, 2010


I was too angry
to say good
night when my
mother said it
to me each
night without fail
during those years
trapped and confused
in my adolescence,
so I simply replied
an abbreviated “ ‘night.”
The omission was
not unnoticed, but
she never stopped
saying, “Good night.”
or “I love
you” even when
I replied only,
“You too.”

She wasn’t why
I was angry;
it was that
age, the trapped
situation, the people
and the hell
they formed by
being other; but
she was close
and constant so
that was where
I lashed. I’ve
always aimed for
marks I could

Laying beside you
tonight, I was
a mark you
could hit. I
said, “I love
you,” you said,
“Me too.”

My mother never
stopped saying, “I
love you;” neither
will I.

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