Cousinhood

Mothers, in our family, give

Birth to many sons when

They are exhausted by their

husbands.

My cousins birth torture, blessing, happiness -

At times, loneliness, too - inside me.

My mother says she keeps relations glued.

My mother says her glue is fine,

But the bond is weak.

They talk endlessly about

food and all the places they will

uncover for taste and appetite.

I eat food like the abnormal thing

That I am.

They ask me about girls at the university -

All the friends they see me hanging out with -

It reminds me of what is so different

From their imagined realities.

I do not do girls.

When they talk of careers, I am safe.

They expect and only get silence in return.

Difficult: sensitive.

They love with the same force as they hate.

I do the same. Which is why,

My cousins are my cousins

For all their intentions

For the blood we share

For the blacks and whites of

Our frustrated individualities.

They try to fit in;

I do it, too, albeit

Cluttered.

(2019)

Image: Berhnhard Cutmann