Letting Go

His profane, covenant child mother
once quipped that all vaginas look
the same. Well, it’s basic equipment
with the same function but he’s seen
a few and they are as different from
each other as penises are. What’s the
point, mother? He wondered if she was
saying something about his dad’s infidel-
ity. As an adult, he saw her nakedness
(Lord, have mercy.) once when the
nurses were trying to move her broken
hip body from one place to another
and she was giving them holy hell.
She was a little spit fire of a woman
with a little womb and he just thought,
after a moment’s discomfort at the
view, Perhaps I could zoom down
and try to see the forest for the trees
and say, “Behold, I, a good Druid, stand
at the tree and knock,”
but he
recalled that Nicodemus had once asked
about going home again so he stood tall
and thought, I came out of there and she did
all the right things for me for at
least the first five years, those,
of course, being the most important
in child psychological development
and so, mom, I thank you because I’m
mostly okay and now I can let you go
your way,
although, in all reality, that
was a premature thought because it
took many more years for him to let
go of the good, the bad and the ugly.

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