mothering and performing

because what else could it be
we wake up every day
you and i
and i shake my bones
out of the blanket

put on my skin
stuff it with flesh
and visceral fat
add some colour
the darker, the better
bitter

rinsing and repeat
the cycle goes
first to feed you
then to clothe you
don’t forget to go to the toilet
eat your fruits

let’s read a book
spend 20 minutes watching
how the spider weaves its web
to trap
shake my head
side to side
get rid of the thought

this isn’t a trap
i can do this
for many more years to come
before one of us is no more
me rather than you
because the world without you
is not worth living
or any of the worlds

somewhere during the day
my skin starts to bleed
the shackles tighten
the key lost
you say you ate it
so i am always with you

i patch up bits and pieces
i choose a black thread
my eyesight isn’t what it used to be
so
the flesh screams
let this all go
mothering has been a role
since the beginning of my days
our days

so i whisper to you
the more tired i become
make funny noises
laugh our heads out
until you freak out
and tell me to ‘breathe in, breathe out.’
just the way i taught you

and i fall asleep
next to you as you tell me
all the names of your favourite dinosaurs
i feel your fingers wiping my
drool
and sweat
2-minutes later
or 5-
or 10-
snatching away the moment
a heaviness

to last until you go to bed
behave!
i say to my bones
you ask: is it hard being an adult
i say, maybe
you ask: would it help if there were three of me
mamas
to share the load

so we sit down
you and i
i tell you
about the different roles i occupy
a world outside of you
of us
where i am more than
sometimes less than
the labels

I want to
and need to
because otherwise, i would be lost

in you
and unravel
madness

unhelpful to you
or i

don’t be sad
you and i
destined to occupy
each other
one more than the other
until there is less of me
and more of you
which is how it always meant to be