Mother

Dark critique of a Mother, mixed with religious imagery and illusions to drug use.

Mother

Mother, draconian serf

gunmetal slacks, ragged with holes,
arsenic boot pressing its lullaby into my cheek.

Mother, deadbeat consort

damask hair, devil-slick, spear-straight,
blood-vino muzzle pressing into the flask.

Mother, brute balmy.

Mother, bipolar pyrexia.

Mother, seraph tempest—

your venom is a love epic, your silence a charity.

Sarcophagus moonshine.
Sinkhole smoke-pipe.
Hacksaw tobacco tin.

I ascended from the carcinogenic pestilence,
into my own rosary bead bones.