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She said I’m the kind of mom who
Doesn’t know what to do
In these situations.
I looked at her hard then and
Looked away at the crying baby with the
Bleeding hand and the sister
Who shouldn’t have to be mama too
And the other three staring up at me
And I judged, hard.
There are many things I understand
But a mama who is useless isn’t
One of them.
I wiped and bandaged and comforted
Except for her, who I could not
look at or speak to
after that declaration.
They all recovered but later,
my head hurt
From the questions I couldn’t ask
and the answers that are impossible –
Why would a woman work so hard
At producing so much
of what she can’t care for?
How do you avoid learning
With such an abundance of
opportunity? And
How does it feel to hurt but
remain untouched
by the one who brought you
to the dance?