Poetry by Alicia Elkort

           ​  Torsten Behrens CC




A Girl Needs Her Mother

The truth is no one asked me to hide. 
I jumped the thicket, piled rocks 

until a wall of misshapen stones, chains 
surrounded what was left

of my thornèd throne. 
I dreamed of hands, 

scratched, & rusted nail
so threw the lock’s key

over the fence, crawled 
into the dark, gritted my teeth,

drew blood. Who can blame me, 
a mother is no light.  

She hides behind silk— 
blue triangles against cream,

a scarf too tight around the neck
her head tilting 

towards the grave,
our ancestors piled in an unmarked grave--

her fear resonant while I wanted to play. 
Instead, I mothered myself. 

I smothered every joy, howled 
every peaceful word 

against a raucous wind.  
I hate myself was the litany.  

I’m not really here the amen.  
Everything I did, I did with my

right hand while my left
held mother’s tethered heart, 

dripping. One match, 
one flame is all it takes

to scorch stone
so the rocks will fall--

so many useless hatreds. 
Repeat after me. I belong.
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Alicia Elkort has been nominated thrice for the Pushcart, twice for Best of the Net and once for the Orisons Anthology. She was the finalist in the 2020 Two Sylvias Book Prize and has been published in numerous journals and anthologies. She lives in Santa Fe, NM and goes to great lengths for a mountain breeze. For more info or to watch her two video poems: http://aliciaelkort.mystrikingly.com/

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