when my mother sprained her wrist,
she told me, “it’s like lying on the bathroom floor

while the world goes black.

all you can do is cry. all you can do is

try to breath. wait until you can breath”

I think about her,

I think about her lying there when you’re

feeling particularly distant, and i’m

feeling particularly lonely. And

back and forth, I try to please,

but give you room to breath.

I think of my mother when i use

my last bit of energy for the day

to ask if you need anything,

and hardly receive a response.

sometimes, I feel like my mother.

sometimes I feel the weight of your world.  
sometimes I feel like i’m breaking my wrist

just to hold your hand.

This poem is about: 
My family


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