Melody in Nightmare Aisle (Free Verse poem)

Your Lips sealed in my head, eyes blazing red
with sporadic green spots—
You left me with Them, mama.
Their bodies smeared on mine like the devil’s sick gushing into velvet red lava.
You wouldn’t help me, mama.
Too busy with your down to earth tomatoes,
and your neatly—two neatly—picked hands,
Gorgeous.
No, mama—Disgusting.
Chopping away every slice of parsley as if ripping my hope with the pieces that fell
like a thin whisper, a deep THUD.
You left and shattered me into broken glass,
Do you love me?
You don’t…Yes I do…No, you don’t!
You left me with Them to rot at the end of my own umbilical cord
the moment you wandered out the door.

Then,
with a deep rosary in your hand looking at me with red eyes
like God’s devil wanting me to end you,
You left me alone, mama,
in the little corner of that stifling kitchen
where your teapots were utterly aligned
but your heart—a disaster.
You left me with Them that day in mid- June, mama.
As you walked out the door, I left the shining teapot hanging from the ceiling
like your heart that hung from my unreachable life.
I left the pots and pans, the grease on the floor, the slick edge of your conscience.
I left the ghostly clatter that filled my mouth with woes and booze.
I left Them all to you, mama,
but you never came back.