sometime around december

mama tried
to kill herself
24 years ago
this week
used to be
i thought about it
everyday
even after
i was grown
but here,
this winter morning
buried below
creamy velux,
curtain pulled tight,
blocking morning sun
i realize
i hadn’t remembered
for a while

made me think
of some
other sadnesses i’d forgotten -

the way grandma cried
when they found
my cousin dead

sylvia’s daughter,
her name now escapes me.
after sylvia’s man killed her
i thought of that little girl
every night at sunset,

sprawling cracks
in green concrete
spread beneath our feet,
as he came to say
goodbye

the indignity of a slap,
the blur of trees rushing by
after days of
rape and silence,

the nauseating knot
of knowing
what others don’t -

in all this
ache of remembering
what time had been generous
enough to allow
me to forget
lies
a sweet satisfaction
an eager epiphany –

there
will come a day
when
a thought of you
will not cross
my
petal strewn
path