Published May 15th, 2024
by Katlego Charmaine Mathebe
When my mother dies, I will inherit her shoes.
Same way spells are passed on from mother to daughter.
This is a family heirloom.
These glass slippers were custom made for my feet.
I wear my mother's mistakes better than she does.
I dress to kill!
You might as well prepare the runway for me.
I mirror her imperfections, perfectly.
We hold night vigils for lovers who never stayed,
And chant prayers for fatherless children.
We sip tea together in the mornings, comparing sins.
We even have the same spine;
It's made of titanium.
Sometimes my mother looks at me with disgust, then it softens into pity.
This is what happens when what you birthed inherits your flaws.
I came out of her womb clutching her insecurities in my fist.
When my mother dies,
Her sons will become my sons.
I will carry her grandchildren on my back,
Singing sweet lullabies.
For I am like my mother.
And all her shoes will belong to me.
About the Poet
Katlego Charmaine Mathebe resides in Pretoria, Gauteng, South Africa.
Read the poet's biography on Katlego Charmaine Mathebe's Artist Page.
This poem is included in Poetry World #9, published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in South Africa Poetry Magazine:
Forever Disgrace
by Onwabo Mkenku
South Africa Poetry Magazine is part of the Wax Poetry and Art Network.
- Visit the main Wax Poetry and Art Submissions Page to see all opportunities.
- Visit the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
- This website and all contents ©Kirk Ramdath and specified artists.
(Advertisements)