In Which I Desire My Mother’s Embrace

for adebisi

be good to me, she once whispered in prayer.
i write this poem to the country welling in
a body, the lakes & skies, the owls & nights,
be good to me, she once whispered in prayer.
i write this poem to the country welling in
a body, the lakes & skies, the owls & nights,
the ribcage ripped open by desires for touch,
the empty beds, the fallowed heart, the night
we would press our ears against the walls, my
brother & i, praying stillness into our mother’s
heartache. i know a mother when i see one, their eyes
gleaming with arrowed stars, their bodies tinged
with wants. the libation poured from a hungry
tongue upon a child’s head. a mother is almost
synonymous to prayer. & i praise Rebecca
for putting skin over skin to find blessings for
Jacob…