Mothering (post drink)

The seed never falls far from the tree,
and I hear her
an envelope, sometimes a shiver,
sometimes a run finger over some piece of flesh
and sometimes the Wilhelm scream
when it's all got too much,
sometimes it's the darkness
that licks head to toe,
or others it's the smile that wipes me off my feet.
I've been alone,
hoping someone
won't turn me out
of well built homes for so long
that the city doesn't have shit on me,
nor do the noises or the way people move
when they've drunk too much
or taken cocaine,
knee to knee,
toilet seat, bathroom stall,
sometimes it's work,
where I'm far from a bar
and a two point two
but that's more,
the politics,
the safe keeping
I suppose I do it
morning to night
and so
it's all because of her
that I am
what I am,
what it is
to feel constantly alert,
constantly on guard,
what it is to be a warrior and a victim,
all at once, from the start.