Some woman
Who could have been my mother
Or at least one of the many
I’ve had in my life,
Sat me on the kitchen counter
With ice in one hand
And a needle in the other
And came at me,
My three-year old mind
Transforming her features
Into a nightmare
Stabbed me in the ears
Until I cried for so long
That I hyperventilated.
I still don’t wear earrings.
Memory From Childhood
