Mothering a Smothering

I am afraid       I killed my mother      in my dream      at 23      at Central Park        gnawing wrist
with tongue     because I have no mother        here in this grassy lawn       the sky is clouding
the same way                milk reacts with coke             causes inevitable separation          of the two
               just like how one       sack of bones       leaves another          to become two             I
believe it’s time            for the eclipse                  in heaven     everyone gets their own lions
to sprint to beautiful places    without even trying                 I am watching the sun         either
become darker              or lighter       with the moon              like my own face          with the
seasons              I am thinking of burying             some of my mother               into this land
but the gods                  and their batons      are onto me        for digging holes      in Central Park

               for wetting the soil     in eye water               for burying a mothered fist          from my
dissected wrist      and smothering it                    into grit