03 March 2017

well-woman

the woman
in the house
behind my mother’s
forever leaping into wells
got on my mother’s nerves

‘why can’t she do the damn thing
when the well is full?’
she would fume
knowing full well
it was only a cycle

rinse, rise, repeat.

we were not so poor then

we were not so poor then
we spoke English
had running water
and tins of food from England
from those who left 
before us

our possession
of this tongue alone
was enough for mothers
to send their children 
to our garden
even after our mother left
(but what gave us street cred
were those instant soups)

we were not so desperate then
even when the same blood
running in our veins
started running in the drains
for our mother
in short, sharp sentences
told them what we were (not)

but then
we had running water
tins of food from England
a mother who could speak
their tongue
who told us to

SHUT UP