black square

Do you notice how your mother ages gracefully u-turning

love once pointedly directed at you towards herself?

Like Totally is utterly confused: what happens to the memories she shares

with the woman who meekly edges across the kitchen table?

Committed to the honesty, Like Totally refuses

to separate the memories she’s fond of from those she dislikes

arbitrary denying the sameness of the person to the mother 

across the kitchen table and the other she thinks she knows.

In fact, we never know the whole person until she dies 

and finally unveils herself before our eyes, 

Like Totally proceeds, but by that time

our eyes loose sharpness and our memory declines.

If I insist on honesty, she continues, I honestly admit 

to never know the person I call my mother.

Like Totally dishearten slightly lights cigarette she finds most likely

next to her cup. 

I wonder, she sighs, I wonder...

 because the same must stand for me. 

I cannot know myself until I die, but by that time…

Remember Kazimir Malevich?  

 The motherfucker after all is right:

The Black Square is an ultimate icona of a person and his or her reflection,

God.