A man without a mother

Late at night,
While the stars were rumouring
About the sun’s disappearance.
Everyday night,
I rest my left arm near
Your neck
Where there is a cigarette burn mark
Which your father gave you
Like a birthday gift.
And then I think
Of all the women
You’ve used like pen knives,
Who cut open
The soft of your ribs
Trying to find a heart inside
Smoking, smelling of dried betle leaves
In orange fire and
Left you unstitched
Like a teenage mother after birth.
Who left you for the lack of validation
Of the relationship between
Your teeth and their lips,
Their hips and your hand,
Their name with your name.
While you were in search for
Your mother in all of them
Who left you
To your father,
To be burned by cigarettes alone
And you never knew
That the moment that smoking cigarette
Touched the prints of your numb palm
You turned into smoke itself.



Β©The Rendezvous Club 2019

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41 thoughts on “A man without a mother

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