GOING HOME

 

Small town

hometown

 

                    - Hey, can you hear me? So, my mother drove me

 

down the ocean flanked

coastal road

wide whistling windows

bandage

silences

between sand dunes

boardwalk

space between our seats

 

vast

 

                    - And she says ‘here’s where I had my first kiss’

                    - And then, ‘your grandmother made me get rid of it’

 

watch her now

bent up like a hairclip

stomach vellum

soft with time

 

                    - My gran’s got a beauty spot on her belly my mom’s never seen before

 

this place

living membrane landscape

memory epidermis layered

day by day

new skins pile up

map our mistakes

 

                    - We keep driving. Then, ‘here’s where I got rape-’

                    - So, I was like, ‘Mom, can we please not go there now?’

 

overlaid and over lain and lay it down

you can’t peel it away go on try

more

mire

mine yours strangers neighbors

it’s just riddled geography

 

                    - Makes me think of the film on an egg

                    - Or the peel of an onion

                    - Yeah, but all of them placed on top of each other

 

small town

sacrosanct

small town

small talk

small town

sidewalk

sunset

slough

 

she drove me

back up the ocean flanked

coastal road

but this time I was the mother

warm breath insulated inside

 

                    - I gotta run. She’s calling me

 

wind whipped garbage bags

strain for the sky like they own it.