mom

my mother has black eyes and olive skin. born in Vienna to William and Beatrice. who were in love. she is the fire and weather in me, but mostly the fire. eye of the tiger. we hunt and laugh. as witches and sirens do. tickle and tease we swoon. over faery tales. whose meaning we pick over. like hungry birds. mask our loneliness with words thin as smoke. we delight in those that can tame us and those who get burnt alike. we secretly want both.