POEM: “Incompetent Fuck” — But I float on / In deep, / Mother gone.

Woman

Incompetent Fuck

She said “all you need is your health”
But where’s hers?
Gone to hell
and mental
shakes when she talks
ball of anxiety
and persona victimhood
like a little girl at the office
people pleasing
with not much education
but as a secretary –
rocked it.

She said “family is blood”
But where’s her love?!
Gone for good
and sorted
incapacity
to sort out problems
and emotional intelligence
of a twelve year old
hurt
from a divorce
from 1979
and Dear Abby, my husband abuses me
mainlined
on refrigerator doors.

Oh, mom.
Where are you now?
Stuck in a box in the sky
and your addictive mind?
Double-chins
and thick thick thighs
and ridiculous fantasies
of dead guys?
And fictions, and lies
and in your disguise:
being like Dad
in his estrangement
from us?

So while Rolex,
Montblanc
Volvo
and Hugo Boss
there on the other side
here we’ve got
Giant Tiger.
She’d give you her last bux
And made good lunches
for our lunch box.
And virtue! No doubt.
A snob.
Yet hanging with trash
that didn’t challenge
her thoughts.

What a world
of upside down
and turn around
and inside out
of coming and going
and inconsistent love
no wonder I steer clear
of it all!
I had me a lifetime of
games and puzzles
and underwater
currents
pulling me apart
trying to drown.

But I float on
In deep,
Mother gone.

Do not be sad—
She never wanted us.
“My kids are the best gift
I could have had!”
ss something humans,
deluded,
2ill say in response
to a sperm and
an ovum
meeting on an incompetent
fuck.

Sylvie Hill, Montreal, Nov 21, 2019