when i first heard

i was becoming

my mother

it felt like the 

diagnosis

was cancer.

they say blood

is thicker than 

water, but we

were a pin-

prick of blood

in the pacific

ocean

and i didn’t mind

the drowning and 

i didn’t want us

to be saved.

now we live

miles

apart. i see her

smile in the mirror,

her hands as i fold

laundry or pour the

coffee, her influence

as i write another

poem or collect

coupons. 

with this comes 

forgiveness, few

tears, bitterness

dissolving into

that ocean, that

frustration. 

this isn’t cancer.

i am my mother’s daughter.