Mother’s Touch
You invade in waves of dreams
blitzkrieg by bizarre imagery
in nightmares find myself enchained
rust stains on her fingertips
prodding my innards,
not reiki-trained,
just pressure
to remold me
to be less refractory.
Awaken in cold grievance
asking why you willed my existence—
Were you staving off your isolation
like creating my life was some bandage?
And what happens now
after you drank yourself to death over half a century
when you left your offspring alone
to recoil against instilled misery?”