look both ways

When I have that stream of blood,

I think, “What if I chose you?”

How would my life had changed?

Would more meaningful thoughts occupy my brain?

Day to day would be for you,

you would be my morning,

and my evening,

the sun rising,

and setting,

my vision would melt,

and days would sit suspended

as I hold you in my arms

you and me, sugar bee, alone,

as I reject the life of my mother,

who nursed the wounds of both

father and daughter

a monumental task

unsuitable for any single human,

tiring for any singular mother,

I would decide to leave him

in his step back to bitter, cold beer,

so, I can have you to myself

for years without trauma, nor fear

protect you from the scars of my youth,

yet, never able to escape your paternity,

that addiction runs through our veins the same,

and you, my love, are cursed with blood

that’s thinner than others,

red blood cells that alcohol coils

around like a snake,

you can’t touch it — it’s poison

I sit and watch the red

flowing like spoiled wine

clumps and clumps of you,

thin blood and future and all

gone in one final bloop

of tissue against water

I kneel beside and search

My hands wet with water

and blood

and tissue

and Earth

I try to find you

so that I can be certain

if I am to have a choice,

if I am to decide,

then, I’ll follow through

with morbid intrigue,

as the scientist I am,

to confirm that the life of my mother

will not be my life to live

that this story of trauma can

end with me, alone in this bathroom

alone with the refuse

of my failed experiment

and I might continue my plan

morning and evening,

day to day,

month to month,

as it was intended,

and I know

when I am ready,

and you return

that I will be able

to sit suspended in time

with you in my arms,

this time, sugar bee,

we won’t be alone