My Mother's Mouth
The construct
cupid’s bow
what’s a hairpin curve
somebody thumbs the thickness of her bottom lip
gums show where the top lifts too high
big white teeth not like an animal’s like a like a...
I think this is what a mouth ought to look like. Lined / colored Raisin Rage / teeth whitened with
Crest strips. Opening / closing / opening / certainty pouring out.
I attempt to dress my mouth like that. The color feathers / coffee stains teeth more than strips
whiten. Opening / closing / opening / stuttering silence.
She sighs, sighs again, sighs again.
I am so used to the sighing; I worry when it doesn’t come.
Fill her silence with a sigh.
Self-discipline.
Smile, sweetheart.
My lips break open to smile at her.
That looks fake.
Have you ever seen a mouth collapse?
I have only seen two:
my mother’s and my mirror’s.
The former, in the hospital. When my tongue slips: I am sick.
She is angry at the way my mouth functions. Vomit / rushing from the center, dribbling at the
edges.
Why do I not have control of my….
I mouthe. I am sick. I am so, so sick. There is no sound.
My mother cries.
Stop playing victim.
When I was your age / my mouth was empty like a good girl’s.
The mirror is filled by too many teeth set in motion.
Do not romanticize lips / wet with saliva and tears.
There is no beauty in them / when they dry. No beauty when they’re not / hers.
Stop crying / victim, you.
I didn’t say that.
She didn’t say that.
What did I tell you?
I mimic motivational speech.
I will not help you, / but you can heal / yourself.
The lips heal faster than the rest of the body.
This is why depressed people can smile.
That looks fake.
It is. I don’t know why I smile when I don’t mean to.
Wipe that smug grin off your face. You think this is funny?
No, I don’t. / I smile.
She smiles back sarcasm. It and I meet with no introduction.
I mirror / the biting speech / in reverse.
She smiles.
I see her gums.
I think smiles are deceptive by nature.
I mirror.
My deceptive mouth keeps telling her lies. She repeats.
I’m going to give you one last chance. Are you lying?
My mouth says
No - words verbalize / pass through
Yes - quivering lips / over dry tongue.
I don’t know which is true so I am mouth moving / stuttering / silence.
You must be crazy.
I am, Mother.
You’d be fine if you stopped playing victim.
All I said was...
She perceives me / victim / tells me to be perceived / differently.
So I smile. Teeth real big and lips stretched thin.
That looks fake.
A mouth collapses, but I don’t see it.
I don’t watch it become not beautiful.
I watch her bloom Raisin Rage at my sincerity. A girl’s mouth is expected...
I am expected to defy expectations so I tell her to...
Alexis / why is your mouth opening / closing / opening / pouring certainty
when it should be stuttering silence?
This is when I learn timing matters. A displaced scream / could kill someone.
An apology / is best given / in a quiet moment. Fill the air with it.
Let it echo off the walls.
Do you hear that?
Hear what?
Exactly.
Let me teach you the value of silence.
I lock lips tight. Hand her the key.
For all I’ve done, you owe me this.
I owe her my mouth / psychic / to what it should be doing.
No apologies trail behind us.
She teaches me too late / not to apologize / for others.
So I tell her what my mouth has done / but not why.
I know / she will call me / victim / so I apologize.
Is this not taking responsibility? Let me try again.
I am sorry my pain causes you discomfort. Let me try again.
I am sorry I am hard to understand. Let me try again.
The second part of an apology is change.
I take another pill,
create metaphor for this illness.
Tell them my truth.
She just wants me to heal.
Her truth sounds better than mine.
There are kind intentions behind her words.
Your fat scares me.
This is only because she loves me.
Too much.
As in there is too much of me to love.
I forget to pay her / silence.
I sigh, sigh again, sigh again.
The air is filled with it.
It echoes off the walls.
Do you disagree?
No - my agreement is a sickness,
Yes - but I’m trying to heal.
I don’t know which is true so I am mouth moving / stuttering / silence.
Answer me.
Too much. I am too much.
I didn’t say that.
She didn’t say that.
I empty my mouth / of her / like a good girl.
Only to refill it / with deception / I call poetry.
A mouth should come with a warning.
This is mine:
my displaced scream / kills / Mother’s kindness.
I’ll give you a reason to scream.
Discipline / is not the kindest subject I know.
But it is the one I write the most about.
My deceptive mouth shapes an apology.
Is this not responsibility? Let me try again.
I am sorry I always write about sad mouths. Let me try again.
I am sorry I never write you hero. Let me try again.
The second part of an apology is change.
I try to make myself / less victim / more survivor.
I try to edit her / a little kinder / than I remember.
That looks fake.
Is this my demonstration / of daughterhood?
I never learned the correct way to show loyalty.
I try to write poems / that do not make villains of us.
But my mouth only knows accusation.
I wish it knew silence.
You want too much.
I want to be loved.
You want too much.
I want to write a poem / she doesn’t want / to remove herself from.
Separate. Lips / parting to yell.
Silence / is a virtue.
Alexis Bates is a poet and writer that explores the intersection of body and womanhood in her work. You can read her words in Boston Accent Lit, Five:2:One, Vagabond City Lit, and elsewhere. She has chapbooks forthcoming from Varsity Goth Press, Luminosity Press, and Ghost City Press.