I am the daughter my mother raised to confront them

Margo Tamez

with grievance’s command.

I am the daughter she trains to translate lightning.

I am the half-deaf child she assigned to tone-deaf judges.

I am the girl riding shot-gun to iron.

I am birthing feet first with no mid-wife to catch.

I sprint, high-jump, and fist-fight in her defence. 

I am a dialect born inside her quietude.

I susurrate incantations transcribing her rivered idioms.

She is rivered remembering, and I am her subpoenas.