z gory dziekuje
I Am Becoming My Mother
Yellow/brown woman
fingers smelling always of onions
My mother raises rare blooms
and waters them with tea
her birth waters sang like rivers
my mother is now me
My mother had a linen dress
the colour of the sky
and stored lace and damask
tablecloths
to pull shame out of her eye
I am becoming my mother
brown/yellow woman
fingers smelling always of onions