Two Mothers
You have become her.
A pair of lesbian
Lovers, the Yin duo.
Whatever devotion I
Had withheld from
Her you bestowed
Back unto her:
Your sensuous obsession.
She will never be lonely,
She will never be de-twinned.
Sister of the Devil,
Will you love her forever?
So eager to climb into her mouth
And spy on her curses.
Bring your secret knowledge back to Bedlam;
Someone must desire to know it.
But who is the trendsetter here?
She would have approved of your habit
Of slapping cruelty back into style,
Which makes me wonder:
The pupil.
Teaches?
Rapunzel's Turn
My braids breed spiders.
I call upon them to
Eat down these walls
And find their way to you.
Old hag, thin-voiced
Witch -- you cast your
Spell on me daily, in sync with the
Moon. These nights are tainted.
They bear your sour smell.
I'd love to wrap my locks
Around your wart-riddled
Throat as I spin my own web
This time. I don't need charms.
Jaws will do the deed --
And quietly, peacefully,
Civilized torture in an Iron Maiden's
Grip. The vegetable garden has
Fallen prey to locusts these days,
You are not the only one going
Hungry. Even child-sellers
Have got mouths to feed; I watch
Them. I have watched them for eternity.
Vengeance, Vengeance, let down my hair!
The cabbages are ripening.
- Jennifer Tung 2001
YESTERDAY'S NEWS TODAY
They fell in love and married,
he, black from Jamaica,
she Montana white.
Lived in San Francisco,
the only place they felt safe.
Lost their babies to sickness,
battled for everyday life.
Injured at work, he lay
near death. The ambulance, siren silent,
trundled him from place to place.
By the time the last hospital
accepted his broken body,
he breathed his final
strangled breath.
Bitterness chokes her at night.
OVER THE FAMILY STORE
Head throbbing, she crawls
into the tiny room over the grocery,
closes her mind to rotten fruit,
shrill wail of two fine sons.
Through defenses frail from over-use
husband's voice
trumpets prosperity
between coup and collapse.
Deep-cell weary, she is caught
in family business, demanding
tone of husband, husbands
mother, elder son.
Far from her college dream,
from Shanghai birthplace,
she thinks in that moment
between uncoupling and sleep
that maybe the next time
riots explode
in Jakarta
she wont hide
- Patricia Wellingham-Jones 2001
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