17
a bouquet of oleander
by Lukas Daliah Galvin
I.
turning over stones to
expose the creatures
lurking underneath
trying to find out
who are you, really?
divorcing yourself from the half truths
your mother crafted to supplement
her own propaganda
proving herself
ironclad and impervious
the fantasies she spun
unravel in your hands
stories woven
to paint herself as the
selfless feminine,
the merciful blood Mother
not the martyr, the victim,
the sadist, the monster
who taught you that
fear and love leave
the same metallic
aftertaste in your mouth
fractured memories
and forbidden histories
float downstream
growing murky
with the algae bloom
pooling around your ankles
where does she end
and where do you begin?
II.
the past is over
but you still
feel it living