Swing and Smash

I see you in your goofiness

and today it does not delight me -

but repulses me.

Which is it you want me to be?

Your mother or your lover?

Your lover or your mother?

It struck me the first time I saw

you eat at the table

fork and knife poised skyward,

elbows raised for efficiency...

I saw you dive in

like a pubescent boy

slurping, sucking, gnawing, chawing.

Is this the way you enter me

with your rod, your tool?

With no finesse, nor grace -

but with ravenous appetite?

I spit on your boots

and push you to the ground.

I goad you with a stick.

Hovering over you

until you release yourself

from your own prison

of Mother-hating boy.

Go there, be there,

remember that painful place

now

and you will be free

from creating a life

which is made of running away,

being cool,

playing the good boy,

the trustable one.

I dare you to do something foolish,

rebellious,

truly irresponsible for you.

Swing and smash

yourself awake.

Be free,

my brother.

Sarah Priestess

March 26, 2010