family tree

mother, father -- granddaddy
who looked like me, who
heard the bells in the air.
grandma who felt his fists --
staring at the leaves.
Dad who sprang from
the twisted branches of their loins,
Mom who bore blossoms
among those tattered thorns

this gnarled family
the tree that I
am under. standing
with my head,
with my pumping heart
drooling over my knees like
the whites of Dali's eggs

I saw among
the twigs of generations,
the flower whose petals spelled
my name
and I knew then
as it breathed in the pollen
and exhaled the pain
that my children would be free

and I will be a woman
who slaps back
and I will be a woman
who withstands the screams,
who bites the shards of glass
and walks into the sunset holding
the offending piece,
and I will prune the tree
of its dead branches.

- February 15, 1999