'Umiy'

My mother,
eyes half lidded,
corners drooping down
like the tips of a quarter moon,
treated me like I was from another dimension,
treated me as if I was there,
but my thoughts and feelings were otherworldly,
a thing that existed outside of her reality.

My mother
drank all day from her thermal cup,
the smell of black velvet floating around it like a mist,
trauma hovering over her head like a fog,

while the id was pinned down like a tomb in the dirt,

the thoughts on it written with pain as ink.

My mother
moved through the house like a ghost,
the corners of her mouth turned down
like the tips of a quarter moon.