On Feeling Like a Shitty Mother

In 1984 I had just read Adrienne Rich's book "Of Woman Born."  She said that until women start writing the truth about there experience, no matter how painful, no one will know the truth about women.  So I did. 

On Feeling Like a Shitty Mother

Sitting at the kitchen table

my face is on fire

allergy

or is it stress?

I can barely write

my writst won’t move

we just took her to the airport

my fourteen year old daughter

she’s been living with her father

for the past nine years

one week just wasn’t enough

I  cried

I never cried before when she left

I tried to hold back the tears

what the fuck, I said

just let them flow

I cried for being such a shitty mother

for leaving her when she was five

for her wanting me to come back

and I never did

for not hearing her sing in the choir

for  not seeing her lead cheers

or play basket ball

for not being there when she came home from school

for not listening to her tell me what’s going on in her life

I cried

and the tears rolled down my face the salt set my skin on fire

What a wreck, I said

what a mess

red circles around puffy eyes

red streaks down each side my nose

and all along my jaw

one week just wasn’t enough

part II

sitting at the kitchen table

my face is on fire

my three year old asks me questions incessantly

what is this?

I keep writing

What is this?

I keep writing

I just don’t want to deal with him right now

What is this?  he asks again

 plunger, for when the toilet gets stopped up

but what is this?

and I snap

I just told you! it is a plunger

enunciating every syllable

wanting to scream

my face is on fire

I’m angry at this father

why is he here?

I want to call him up and demand his appearance

right now!

And when father finally arrives

son wants to play with him constantly

and I want to talk to father

and son and I fight for father’s attention

and father leaves

what’s the use?

of anything?

It’s a gray day

the kitchen’s a mess

as usual

my face is on fire

I have to talk to the IRS tomorrow

I am a delinquent taxpayer

and my bank account is overdrawn

I can’t pay you as much as I said I would

I told the woman on the phone

You mean you defaulted? She asks.

Well, yes, I guess so I answered

thinking how criminal that sounded

been spending too much time

worrying about who my husband was fucking

instead of tending to business

I wanted to tell her

But what did she care

We’re back to the old routine now

he’s not fucking her anymore

I gave him an ultimatum

It’s either her or me

I’m not risking any disease

Part III

mommie,  I’m hungry

I keep writing

mommie, I’m hungry

I keep writing

And he starts tugging at my arm

mommie I’m hungry

and I snap again

alright! What do you want?

a banana

more tears

and the salt burns

my face is on fire

and I cried again

for being such a shitty mother

© 1984