Mother’s Day Revisited

mother screaming on a cool cantaloupe night

it was her nature

to stay in the foyer

as I watched her bleed through crack doors

making sure her pain would never hit the ground

I ran

to catch it

with cupped hands

I’m yours. . . I’m yours

to crush

crushing

crushed 

until I could no longer see

but feel

my fingers against her vanished cheeks

oh feed me! feed me!

I cried

as her demure salt covered lips

gently kissed

my open wounds

and I, somehow

loved her

praying

she would never

stop