Duct tape on my lips
Listening as my mother lies
With her hands on her hips
“I know what’s best for you”
“Anxiety? No such thing”
“Crying? No she just has the flu”
The masks won’t stop the sting
In her words that hits
Harder than the blows
Of the men she wants me to worship.
For lunch I’ll eat my woes
Dinner is at a wedding:
My dear friend
And the man she will serve.
I will wear thick layers of make up
But that won’t stop the ache
From the memories
Of our passionate love-making
From the wonderings
About her future:
Will she remember
My gentle touch
As his punches land
On her body that was once
My Mecca and Jerusalem.
Now only men we pray to
Hold their honor
On our temples
Display their banners.