Mother, Mirror

This hand-me-down
Gothic reflection.

This Holy Mother
Scrolling her entitlements–

Even after death. Her embossments
Perpetually etched in my ebony frame.

For so long,
I have thought us the same.

But, she’s just a dark
Glint for me. A splinter

In the beholden eye. I know
She follows. She breathes

The same air, close by.
I know she’s bothered

I survived.
That I lived

To transcend her
Likeness. Her creeping

Resin. The spotty
Patina mottling

Time. My face
An erasure

Of her face.
Our commiseration

Greets each day:
We grimace

One to the other
Then move away.

 

Tammy Robacker , a Hedgebrook writer-in-residence, graduated with an MFA in poetry from the Rainier Writing Workshop at Pacific Lutheran University, 2016. She won the Keystone Chapbook Prize for “R” and just launched her second book, Villain Songs through ELJ Editions this year.

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