Three Moons 0 205

I am my mother’s language

kneaded among the discolored patches of my skin &

 

I am teeth skidding across waters

salt collecting on rolled tongues &

 

she is smattered against condemnation

in a country whose flag bears colors akin to her own

 

I am not my mother’s patience

nor am i the flecks of green in her warm gaze

 

I am not her freckled hands

nor am i the soft lines on her pallid skin

 

I thumb through bible pages

and name a testament after women &

 

their crimson hands carving resilience

wringing out sodden wounds

 

with every exhale of their breath

against wood and concrete

 

I am my mother’s tears

and she is the flit of illumination that follows them

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Brittany Adames is a seventeen-year-old Dominican-American writer from Easton, Pennsylvania. She spends time writing poetry and leaving short stories half-finished.

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