Did your mother’s mad
loving, her venom,
make you stronger
than you would have been
otherwise?

Did your mother’s mad
loving, her venom,
make you stronger
than you would have been
otherwise?
Read me a poem about loss I say.
Are you on the mend? I say.
I shake my head no.
Already I have tasted fire.
Tongue to tongue,
I have licked
its heat and flame,