mum doesnt like to take pictures
the only photo we have together is of us on our front steps
me,
in my prom gown
her,
with the biggest I've ever seen her smile
her porcelain is something I was born into
fragile and small
easily broken
mum took the family photos off the living room walls
we stare at the new blank state
I want to teach her how to love herself again.
dad is in three photos
he's holding me in all of them
he is helping me pick apples today
He whispers, let the fruit fall from the tree
if it spoils before you can bite into it,
let the seeds plant life right in front of you.
I've been trying to grow myself a father ever since.
dad has bad teeth
I'm convinced he is a mouth full of bruised apple
and blistering ego
my parents met during the genocide
dad inherited a jewelry store in his dirt rich village
mum was a pretty city girl
it was the glory years
the ultimate love story
find a lover your age and run fast enough to plant life before they catch you
but they never taught me how to love
they only taught me how to fuck like I will run out of life
mum collects porcelain figurines and fancy China sets
she calls it her hobby
she leaves them all in display cases in the dining room
we haven't eaten dinner together in years
on the nights when the house spirit doesn't scare me bad enough
I kneel down and carve my fingernails into the flesh of the living room walls
my therapist says family photos are my instant triggers
when I date someone who comes from a big family,
I want to turn them all into ghosts
the boys I have loved all come from big families
they invite me for dinner
I try my best not to turn my knife into a battlecry
I sit still and smile
carve my fork along the blues in my arms
trying to trace back to where my parents met
and disassemble their paths before they even cross
mum still hasn't put the family photos back onto the living room walls
I say,
let's fill the frames with baby birds that jump to their death
and the song cry of an abandoned bee
I hear the house spirit screaming at me through the walls
I keep it trapped inside a home that will never learn how to sing its name
she frowns
cries at the sight of me performing my own autopsy
stretches her arms across the walls
I ask,
isn't this how a family photo works?
we plant each other onto the walls so strangers can envy us,
right?
She whispers,
honeybee,
where'd you get those teeth?
you look so much like your father with that smile.
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