Marble by Andrea Gibson(1) - Marble by Andrea Gibson I once...

Marble by Andrea Gibson
I once had sex with a very large woman
At the very tip of a long quiet pier
While a herd of stranded sailors cheered us on
From a navy boat a hundred feet away
And that is just one of those things
I don’t need to tell my mother
But
There are other things I do need to tell her,
You, Mother.
‘Cause I have been half a decade now
Falling slow from the hands of your letting go,
Crashing down upon the pages of our separation
Where you’ve written me into paragraphs of
Short-haired dirty-hippie man-hating queer.
And I wonder if you even remember my name.
‘Cause every minute of every day
I can still hear you calling it from our window
Through the wind of my ten-year-old sky,
“Andrea, it’s time to come home…”
But I haven’t been home in years.
And every memory of you is a halt,
A clot where all my blood-rushing veins just stop,
And most days I can’t remember how to bleed.