Untitled No.1 - Poem by Jacob Bearer
I remember being under my Power Rangers comforter
in the darkness,
and clutching what was left of my teddy bear -
his stuffed stiff arms out in surrender to the pain.
Through the creak wood floor and black wires
my mom surged with that maternal fire, that alone
can say, "They are MY kids, too, DAMMIT! "
slamming shut kitchen cupboard doors that then unseal themselves
because the landlord layered flat eggshell white over white
like the earth's crust hiding its gravel mantle,
hiding its core made brilliant flame from pressures deep
that can only release when the rust cracks and slams
and screams out the magma that teaches a kid
that he is not a kid;
that mom is as weak as a crucified Lord
in the night, breaking from love.
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