Spit me back into the mouth of God.
Let him choke.
His muffled shrieks remind me of my mother and my childhood.
My mother never loved me
How do I explain that the trees are too tall?
That the wind is too strong and I am too small.
My mother never loved me
God is choking.
The trees are too tall.
I ask God, do you want me here?
Is there enough room?
I can be smaller, if you ask.
I can be as small as you want me to be.

— Hannah Green, from “My Mother Never Loved Me.”