Poetry — Kim M Reynolds

Mother Your Lover

You cannot mother your lovers.
You cannot mother your lovers.
You cannot mother your lovers.
You cannot mother your lovers.
You cannot mother your lovers.
You cannot mother your lovers.
You cannot mother your lovers.

You cannot mother your lovers for your lovers are not your children.

Your lovers are not for you to carry.
Your lovers are not school fees or doctors' visits.
Your lovers are not needing your guidance.

Your lovers are your equal.
Your lovers are your friends are your lovers are you companions
even if just in the night,
your lovers are your lovers.

They are someone who dishes up for you when it’s their turn.
They are an equal participant in the planning of your trips away
in fast cars with arms wrapped nicely around your shoulders.
Their occupancy in your mind must be one without insecurity
and they must see their occupancy as that of spectators,
always looking to see what’s going on.
Asking questions in the silence after sex
and taking note of how you respond.

Your lover learns you, as you learn them.
In this way,
they are not your child who takes from you,
who you provide to endlessly,
whom you give allowances
and worry about the conduct of their life.
That is for your lover to do, for they are not your child.

Mothering is love,
but it cannot be the default thing
you give to your lover
for we know
the burdens and barriers of motherhood.
Of the thankless work,
of the endless work,
of being the driver of the car
and the cleaner of the car
and the GPS
and brakes too.

Being a mother
reinscribes motherhood
and its impossibilities.
The best lovers can transcend
and together
charter the map
of care and love,
but you cannot be a mother to your lover.

You cannot mother your lover
You cannot mother your lover
You cannot mother your lover
You cannot mother your lover
You cannot mother your lovers
You cannot mother your lovers
You cannot mother your lovers

You cannot mother your lovers for your lovers are not your children

Inauguration

And they just killed the earth.
And blew out the sun. 1

I mean can you believe it?
that they just killed the earth and
that they just blew out the sun?

To be white
and nothing else.

It’s inauguration day in the most of violent countries on earth
and all these people
are shuffling their feet
and exchanging papers
and smiling through their teeth.

And
I bet at least 40 interns were harmed in the process
and that 300 reporters
stayed up all night to think about how
and what ‘the squad’ would say.

And
since when did we do such big ceremonies to
switch from Coke to Pepsi?
Don’t they got the same producer?
Same manufacturer?
Or at least some shared stakeholders
or stockowners?

And
did Flint make their switch back yet?
Did their lever ever go back up?

And
at the very same hour,
all over the country,
there is less shuffling going on
and more of the same.

And
there are the ones who are gonna smoke an extra pack today,
there are the ones sitting in their living rooms with scours on their face.

And
there are the ones who will
muster up all the vocab words they can:
fraud,
rigged,
illegitimate,
unfair,
not right,
against my rights.

And

there are also the ones taking up arms
ready to just kill the earth
and blow out the sun in the
name of a god
whose genesis is white.
And war wooed god.
And america was held onto
and reinforced desperately.
And war IS peace
and genocide IS patriotism
and imperialism IS on the list of demands
Where “make america”..., you know the rest
is a just a call for an ethnostate.

And
those of us who the gun is aimed at....
Well, let's find a new sun?
One where we don’t rely on it to “shine” on “truth”.
or one that isn’t summoned
to beg people act right in the light,
in the day,
in broad daylight.

I, I will find my own corner,
my own sun,
cause this one,
this one never worked right anyways.

(The Great Pax Whitie -Nikki Giovanni)