all of me is half of her (and Him)

 A gainless challenge it is to connect intellect proud
 with lashes long, eyes veined, and sanguine colors
 wetly flooding merriment into chapped lips and
 brown cheeks cratered;
                                                  but conducive expectancy it becomes 
     to underestimate when dispirited liquid collects on those same
     curved hairs, black pupils dilated, and botched pink deepining
     the divide of dotted pores breathing, trembling forced vibrations
     of a tiring pulse, mocking what death had begun
                                                                                                 within.

Summer's gift nursed beyond borders, mother would trace in the
lines near her nose and the dust shadowing the window's ledge
as we commuted. A blessing, she would carve along my early
scars and spots, some of which being biological and others having
blossomed mishappenly by emotional imbalance.

Defined by none, she had forgotten to kiss above bruised veins,
to substitute the too-light powder on my ten years living skin, to
rip blank papers covering disgusted, damned reflections of glass
ceilings, glass, ceilings, floor, arms, neck, face unique, uniquely
                                                                               fatherless,
                                                                               bullied,
 Strong enough,                                                                beaten,
 she did                                                                   timid,
 whisper                                                                  smoked,
 by example                                                             tanned,
 and love                                                                 female,
 to an ignorant                                                         naive,
 youth's ears...                                                        poor,
                                                                              and Godless.

...who finally knows her blood makes no fault in its determined stream,
   cascading in even flow, seeping warmth and life deserved into soul
   begging righteous clemency, glowing mind composed in manner
   but acquaintanced with ambitious thirst.

                                                                                                  I have learned.

                                                                             Ma, I swear I have learned.

                                                                                             Tell it to your God.
                                                                                I won't get angry this time.
                                                

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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