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THE PITKIN REVIEW:
SPRING 2023 EDITION
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Sarah Mae Afriam
Portal Through my Mother’s Body
My anger makes a myth of my mother
for so many years while she is still alive
that I waste time we could spend together
refusing to talk to her instead.
I mock her distinct
voice, half singing, half
sad. I tell traumatic stories
as though that is all there is
trauma that begot
trauma / trauma
that took the spiral route
through her body, through her life
and into mine / the corkscrew
of her trauma
the sacred symbol
of in & out, around, in between,
core to atmosphere, infinite
and in perpetual
I don’t yet
there is a clock
on our time together;
that I will step through a series of moments
that end as she dies looking into my eyes –
that there will be a new before and after,
a new liminal space that opens
like a mouth in the center of my life
and just starts swallowing.