When he died, I got so jealous it surprised me
(having envied him before, just after beating him,
while sobbing in a corner of that empty
house somewhere he hurt.
Like me)

We were twins, he and I
never mother and a son
because, remember, he had another mother

abandoned there together
I uncovered in his naked wounds
a bitter taste I couldn't put my finger on
without him

The first time, I felt sorry
when I kicked him, knocked him down
but when I saw his broken body looking
like I felt inside

it helped a little

His purple arms became
the emblem of my sorrow
and the dried up blood
a path to show the ways
his father killed my soul

And if I could not love the man
who gave him life
I chased his son into the grave
while searching for the signs
of my uneasiness

Search and destroy, it seems

So you who sit in judgment now
think what you must
but know that now his body tells
the Truth about a woman who could never be
his father's lover

January 16, 1998