i am cutting
off a limb, severing
skin from sensation,
castrating nerves ‘til
i feel nothing but
a phantom mother, her
touch amputated from my
mind, and yet it lingers
like the drip from a faucet
that can’t be closed
completely, drops adding
up one by one ‘til
i drown beneath the weight
of tears that do not surface
and will not stop—
when i was nineteen
i turned my back on my mother
without giving her
a second glance—
i was strong enough
to let go of her
hand, lest
i have kept
holding
on to feel it
become too
cold
___
Eric Cline is a gay poet currently residing in Dumfries, Virginia. He received his bachelor's degree in psychology and creative writing from Longwood University. His work is forthcoming in Crab Fat Magazine.
off a limb, severing
skin from sensation,
castrating nerves ‘til
i feel nothing but
a phantom mother, her
touch amputated from my
mind, and yet it lingers
like the drip from a faucet
that can’t be closed
completely, drops adding
up one by one ‘til
i drown beneath the weight
of tears that do not surface
and will not stop—
when i was nineteen
i turned my back on my mother
without giving her
a second glance—
i was strong enough
to let go of her
hand, lest
i have kept
holding
on to feel it
become too
cold
___
Eric Cline is a gay poet currently residing in Dumfries, Virginia. He received his bachelor's degree in psychology and creative writing from Longwood University. His work is forthcoming in Crab Fat Magazine.
