Oedipus’ Mother
Left on a mountainside
you
with your strange
scarred feet, but in all
other ways
a perfect little king.
I daubed your feet
bound them in silk.
I was your legs,
carried you wherever
you wanted to go…
but then you wanted to go.
The marks were there for a reason
but I wouldn’t listen to reason
I only wanted you
you
who became king
to strangers
I remember you onstage
in your crown of leaves
missing a tooth, hair chopped
in a playdate gone wrong
but your face
beaming, vivified.
That’s our son
we said, that’s our boy.
Now your father is dying
and creeps about with a cane
he wants to see you
to call you his heir
When you were a baby
you had fever in the night
I lifted you from the crib
and held you hot against me
wiped the vomit from your mouth
and smoothed your hair,
caked wet with sweat
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