I took some time out today
To look at my mother-
Not the usual half-hearted gaze
When she's saying something
And I am drawn to the two unread
Notifications on that dizzying screen.
Or the stare that's marked by question or retort.

A real look, at the constellations
in the pupils of her eyes as they light up
With a story of her childhood.
Or a map of the lines on her face
As she smiles down at the coffee
I have bought for her, sipping with reverence,
Like ambrosia.

I stopped to take pictures of her,
Instead of seemingly interesting sights
Everywhere else. I paused to drink it in-
Her little frown as she reads silently,
The furrowed brow I've seen in pictures
Of me that have been surreptitiously captured
In a bookstore. I walked with her today,
instead of ahead or behind or even beside,
But somewhere else.

I took some time out today,
For all this time is worth
To really look,
At my mother.

Someone once told me about a man,
He polished shoes  all his life
Every hour, every day, he had no wife,
And then he went to heaven.
I, I polish men.
They come to me, uncut blocks of stone
I chisel them carefully, my soul's torn
But  there's  an edge still undone
A sand papered finger across his jaw
Blowing gently on his lips, I draw a whiff
Of the women he will kiss. I'm stiff
And weary, there are bags beneath
my eyes, bags he laces with the sheath
Of my sleepless nights, as he leaves
To adorn someone else's ring,
As always, I wait for morning.