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MY MOTHER'S FACE
2. Infant Scar
she twists up around the mouth, if the pain could be released, this is where it would come out, the wrinkles are lines of strain, holding it in, sometimes during sleep, it is emitted, in little pup groans, deep below an earthy frown, as if it was my first blood, mum said, 'you are getting your first lines', 'but where?', 'a frown mark, right between the eyes, you should try to frown less', but she is wrong, the line was created from an accident, when i was eight, involving my drunken father, after the stitches, nan coming through the frontdoor & me standing there, with my tennis racket, every time i picked up that tennis racket, i felt like i had hit myself in the face with it, when cross-eyed, i could see the black stitches, gathering up the lump of skin, into its big infant scar, i heard nan say, 'no', i felt the weakness in her knees, beneath her pleated skirt, a momentary tremble in her heart, i will admit to liking the attention, i pretended to be sick as well & got the measles, but for nan something had been ruined, she should have stepped in sooner than this, then mum bought me an iceblock & a basket ball, at school i was called into the deputy principal's office, when he asked me what happened, i said, 'i fell over', he didn't believe me, but he couldn't get a thing out of me, i sealed my lips, the house, my heart, i forgot, the little blinds pulled down, closing my self blame in, even when the kids watched me, bounce the basket ball against the brick, waiting for me to pass it to them, i could sense they were wary & didn't like me, they saw me behind my infant scar & i saw them through it, mum had told me what to say, now from looking at it, you will be able to tell, i have been injured, somewhere inside, that broken piece stored in a cupboard, this is the line that separates us, it is not a wrinkle setting in, mum's face sinks into the cotton pillow slip, at night her lines rest themselves, the sheets collapse down over her bones, she is deeply asleep & the pain is working inside her, like fingernails grown longer in the morning, it's not natural ageing |
