I want to tell my mother about the knot in my throat
About how It’s been lodged there for a decade
how I’ve told her before without ever using the word “knot” or “throat”
How I wished, hoped that this mother-daughter bond would include intuition or telepathy
About how its been there so long I don’t remember if it really got there the way it got there
I’m not sure I know the difference between reality or imagination anymore
And if that’s not real
Then
What other memories has my brain put in my head?
I want to to tell her I don’t mean to be rude
I don’t mean to not laugh at the joke
But I’ve learned that my silence can mean more than just “yes”
About how I am always, still protecting someone
Her, him, them, us
-Annette
