This one I think is meant to be performed. When I wrote it, it sounded like a monologue. Someone telling whoever would listen how she fucked up her plants.
For so long I was afraid of your hands and The boom in your voice And in my later years
I wrote this poem about healing through our mothers, particularly from the pain of sexism and racialized gender violence.
Go and repair thoseBroken limbsThat torn faceAnd cracked smile