looking for my mother

i try to find my mother
in the hollows of my neck
the crook of my arm
my three-head
the soft black meadow grass
that dots my upper lip and jaw

i try to find my mother
in my chocolate soup eyes
in the way i immediately tense
when someone mentions my father’s name
in the way i flinch
when someone raises their hand
even vaguely in my direction
in the way my teeth chatter
when it is one degree below 20
or how i still call a green pepper
“capsicum”

my mother has been gone for ages
silenced by the iron hand of my father
she’s been deconstructed into flour and water
into spilled beads and broken wing
her voice retreated into a dark, soft place
that no doctor or therapist could ever reach

i try to find my mother
in the way i dance
but i am graceless
she had the fluidity of smoke
and the rhythm of a drum
i trip when people speak too loud
or look too long

i try to find my mother
in my voice
conjure up her thoughts
and give them breath
but she had been silent for too long
turned into a shadow
and i had always been comfortable
with the quiet