those abstract shapes of who I was
which she found so much easier to love
Julia Alvarez, “Folding My Clothes”
The army uniform that I hated
my mother spa every Saturday,
and rested on a bamboo pole
to dry with her flesh-colored bra.
The supporter of my oppressor
is my oppressor too. My mother
is an oppressor who does things
for me, like your mother for you.