my mother left her hand on the
table for me to eat, my
mother was bread and when she went out to the
street the pigeons ate from her face and her
behind her, the men who loved her chewed her bread with their teeth, and my mother smiled too when
her boss cut a small piece of his back and
She showed him her sales charts at the weekly meeting, the world devoured her little by little,
the pets we have
They sniffed her, they smelled the bread from her heart and they bit it and my mother did not scream or say pain, pain,
She did not repeat pain, pain, sitting on a stone in front of the sea that she loved so much. She let the mermaids and the fish eat from her bread feet and one day, while she was leaving for work, my phone rang.
and a voice that I don't remember told me
for her to hurry me because there were barely a few crumbs left of my mother and when I arrived
her eyes were already closed
and the room smelled of bread.