my mother did not grow up

with her mother I did not

grow up with mine my son

did not grow up with me

how does one define the jigsaw

when the pieces are misshapen

by the constant hands of others?

the gift of life is maternity

and the removal of this is

a reparation that has no price

the picture is askew in the portrait

you offer and rejection is the new

graffiti to rewrite the script

you offer breakfast and forget

I found my mother

and rebirthed my son

Together we are the Banquet

Read the rest of Overland 227

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