at twelve, i sat by mama’s side
watched her bedridden
her coal colored skin
cut carved stitched together
like connect the dots
i traced the lines from her incisions
made believe she wasn’t withering away
at the hands of white men
in white coats with sharp knives
in search of treasure they’d never find
i reached out with my girlish fingers
touched a part of her soul
beyond the blue-eyed surgeon’s expeditions
held on to her as tight as a dying man
holds his last breath
i pulled her close
cradled her in my arms
as gently as she’d cradled me when i was new
loved and protected her
the way daddy never would
i wept alone for her in a sterile hospital room
that became oh too familiar
closed my round brownish eyes
spoke to god
said a prayer for mama
