Dear Liz

Tuesday, November 21, 2017
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Yours were the first nipples I sucked
Yours were the first breasts I touched
Sorry Mama I couldn't be a Mama's boy
Neither did I want to be like my dad
I don't deny
You were the first woman to hold me hostage
In the little prison for nine months
And your hands touched every part of me
Did things that even nurses can't
I'd have called it pure love
The one that only one woman can give
I felt so comfortable lying my head
On your chest as I listened to your heart
Beat so softly, aw!
Talk of my first kiss...
You even let me, Mama
Pass through your centre of femininity
You were the first friend I made
You even called me your baby
And I even called you mummy

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Twenty-something years later though
I wonder if all you did
Was just motherly duty
Sorry, I knew you wanted a girl
You even trained me to walk in stilettoes
How to take care of my toes
A little Cutex here a little henna there
But the elephant head between my thighs
Grew so violently
And skinnies became
An awesomely great embarrassment
And my voice was no longer soporific
My face had hairs, no longer pacific
Then I found skimpily dressed girls
More fun than the faces you made
While I played with your lips and nose
I found red wine
Softer than your laps that nursed
The baby me

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When my teens were about to end
My eyes grew wide and bitter
When I heard the same lips I'd played with
Say with undisputed confidence
That your baby was unwanted!
That you wish you'd have ‘flushed’
Or used protection or something!
That meant I was a waste to you
First I didn't become a nice looking girl
Second I wasn't a Mama's boy
I thought you were just being jealous
And spread my arms to hug you
To assure you that you were Mama
And would remain Mama dead or alive
That I loved you so much
More than Nicki, Taylor and Amani
That you were my Wonder Woman
But your heart was a stone, a hot one
Then I knew my time had come
To call this the biggest heartbreak
And move on...
With a few bottles of Rest In Peace

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You wanted me to be a gynaecologist
To help other Mamas out
I swear I'd have become one
But words and paint stole my heart
I found turpentine more pleasant
Than the smell of... you know
I thought rhyme made more sense
Than pap smears and needles and scalpels
Anything else I'd have done for you
I'd even bring the moon under your feet
Skin Venus to make you a crown
But Mama sorry I couldn't be a small you
Poetry, art and anything written
Unfortunately, made this planet a world

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People write nice poems about their mothers
People call their mothers angels
I'd have wished to write some to you
Praise you for showing me my first rabbit
Sorry you called mine hares
I never denied you were an angel
I, though, hate to talk in past tense
And one thing Mama
The poet is a liar
Who always speaks the truth
Jean Cocteau told me that
Despite all these Mama
You will always remain Mama dead or alive
You still are my Wonder Woman
Only that I chose to grow amid true thorns
Not in a nest of warm, pretentious, love
And someday Mama dead or alive
This thing you should have ‘flushed’
Used protection or whatever
Will draw tears from your beautiful eyes
Make you proud
Only then you will know
That my dad didn't love you, I DID!

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