It will hurt you, what your daughter hints
she told her therapist.
Let go of it.
This is not about you.
Your child burns with venom.
All you need is for her to stop hurting
herself. To stop wanting to
hurt. If she blames you
for the scorpion, the snake,
the spider, for the world
that shelters them,
then let her, for now.
For now, bless these sullen drives
to sleepover, school, therapy. Bless
the weighted air you share inside this car.
Bless her hints and jabs,
from which you shape the outlines
of those dark, barbed things
she hides beneath her tongue.
