Cancer coughs, choking out,
“Mother is terminally ill.”
Crumbling, birthed each one of us
crashing tsunami tides
quivering seismic sways
Do you smell her in smog laced air
the poisoned waters sliding
down one’s esophagus?
Her pain melts into our own as numbers fail to count the continuous catastrophe of
thoughtless toddlers pulling mother gaia to the carpet floor till her body can’t be shared
How many personifications and metaphors will it take to care for her like family?
Each tyke birthed, same as friend or foe, from only one womb
down unpaved path,
We reach cliff’s edge
post impetuous bouts of play
Blindfolded, won’t watch
Mother settles in her tomb
till her later resurrection
Peaceful, as we are interred
down within her
Christina Gayton is an aspiring poet, journalist, and actress based out of NYC and currently attending NYU’s Gallatin School of Individualized Study. In the world of slam poetry, she has been on NYU Slam’s 2018 CUPSI team and UrbanWord NYC’s 2018 Brave New Voices team.