Poetry: “Mother as Model Figure” by Kiyanna Hill

MOTHER AS MODEL FIGURE

Because I wait until peak summer for the blackest
plums. Because I wrote any name but mine
on my homework: Tempest, Ruby, Kennedy.
Because I snapped the menthol in my first cigarette
at 15 in the backyard while you made coffee.
Because our twinned bodies blistered with mosquito bites.
Because we couldn’t sleep, ate bowls of fudge
ripple ice cream with a splash of milk.
Because you ran away from your mother and asked me
to keep my door unlocked.
Because I rewrote the name you gave me.
Because I crawled after the first boy
who said “I love you,” scarring my shallow knees.
Because I inherited your weak nails.
Because I warmed my own cold hands.
Because I brough you river water,
a body of nettles, a sun-stained worry stone.
Because I look over my shoulder
after entering any room, holding another blessing in my throat.

About Kiyanna Hill

Kiyanna Hill is a Black writer. She is left handed. Her work can be found in Porter House Review, Brave New Voices, Peach Mag, and elsewhere. Her poetry chapbook "A Damned House and Us In It" is forthcoming from Variant Literature.