How To Ask Your Black Mother for a Therapist
by Elani Spencer
I.
Sit her down,
preferably in a car
going full speed down a highway,
so you don’t have to look her in the eye
when you’re calling her a terrible mother,
strutting across sidewalk cracks,
and throwing salt into the womb
that brought your ungrateful butt
into this world
II.
Don’t hesitate.
If you let her hear
the quiver of your tongue
as it retreats back into your throat,
she’ll never take you seriously
III.
Bring an attorney:
a sibling, a friend,
anyone who can back up your case,
for the nights you spent crying
on your bathroom floor,
running the shower water
for the days you lost yourself
in fantasy books,
willing to carry the pain of characters
that don’t even exist,
rather than your own
because the load didn’t feel as heavy
Let your alibi,
the I’m fine’s,
the Nothing’s wrongs
finally crumble
IV.
Remember,
she is still learning
Remember,
she had to take of
her sadness
and leave it by the door,
so she didn’t track it
through the house
Remember,
be quiet was beaten
into her behind closed bedroom doors
Remember,
her wings have been pinned down
for a long time
but you will teach her,
you will break out
of this perfect cocoon
your family has spun for you,
together,
and you will rise,
together,
and your children will rise,
together,
and your grandchildren will rise,
together,
little black butterflies,
a flapping black swarm
that will block out the sun,
but never again
be left in the dark
Muse Mosaics 