Post by goldenmyst on Feb 16, 2022 0:37:23 GMT -6
Mom & Me
“Why do you stick with me, John?”
“Because you are my mother.”
No pill created by man,
Can relieve her pain.
When it reaches the crescendo
Of a spirit bound to the rocks
Where her chains of Andromeda
Put her at the mercy of the sea monster
Whose teeth gnaw into her spine
Until her only hope is an epidural
To numb her twisted vertebrae
And undo the pangs of bitter winter ice
I fall to the floor. “My son, my son.”
She helps me down the ymca front steps.
And holds me close to her bosom.
As my father drives me for a test
That shows only fainting.
“How long has it been since my son went outside?”
“We will apologize later.”
My anorexic reaction to the hospital food.
Is assuaged by the brown rice she cooks
For me each night, when she brings a pot
Of my delicacy to devour.
And she sits with me while I eat.
And so decades later. I sit with her in the ICU.
Praying this won’t be the day
She goes to the old folks home.
She rolls her wheel chair down the empty hallway
Screaming for a doctor. While one patient didn’t
Make it. But this won’t be Mom’s final freedom.
No, she will see a few more nights on her own bed.
As I remember that sorrow is a sea gull
Circling for scraps
At the dock of hungry souls
Who don’t have to dive far
To feed off the memories
Left by the ghosts of fishermen
“Why do you stick with me, John?”
“Because you are my mother.”
No pill created by man,
Can relieve her pain.
When it reaches the crescendo
Of a spirit bound to the rocks
Where her chains of Andromeda
Put her at the mercy of the sea monster
Whose teeth gnaw into her spine
Until her only hope is an epidural
To numb her twisted vertebrae
And undo the pangs of bitter winter ice
I fall to the floor. “My son, my son.”
She helps me down the ymca front steps.
And holds me close to her bosom.
As my father drives me for a test
That shows only fainting.
“How long has it been since my son went outside?”
“We will apologize later.”
My anorexic reaction to the hospital food.
Is assuaged by the brown rice she cooks
For me each night, when she brings a pot
Of my delicacy to devour.
And she sits with me while I eat.
And so decades later. I sit with her in the ICU.
Praying this won’t be the day
She goes to the old folks home.
She rolls her wheel chair down the empty hallway
Screaming for a doctor. While one patient didn’t
Make it. But this won’t be Mom’s final freedom.
No, she will see a few more nights on her own bed.
As I remember that sorrow is a sea gull
Circling for scraps
At the dock of hungry souls
Who don’t have to dive far
To feed off the memories
Left by the ghosts of fishermen