Carolyn D. Elias – Mother



You are a stone chained behind my teeth, biting my tongue

until it is slashed into ribbons.

Does your throat swallow

broken glass when a shadow reminds you of me?

I inspect the lines of your body

and I spy no hidden bruise or red swollen lump,

only flexing fingers resisting to curl into meaty fists.

Against our wills we are blood bound;

our faces are blank, worn smooth from constant battle.

Raw tiny scars, shiny and faded,

maps of earlier skirmishes crisscross our souls.

Our hair is all torn out;

Having torn each other to bits we are not satiated

but laid bare, and afraid that the other will beat us

into submission.

Will we burn each other to ashes?

In the depths of our burning can we be reborn

as phoenixes?

Carolyn D. Elias is a writer, currently living in Morris, MN with her husband and two cats. She writes poetry and short stories. Carolyn also works as a freelance editor. This is her first publication with Sassafras Magazine.



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