-
Momma died two decades ago,
she would have turned
seventy-eight to—day
i woke up and spoke with her
this morning, imagining her
with a long red Irish mane
about Daddy being laid up in a
nursing home, my brother and
i hoping to fix him before he
finally gives up
she said— "_nothing_"
i think maybe this is because
she long ago saw the lights
up ahead, in a place where
human conversation would
be considered archaic
and birthdays rendered
as undefined
she is illuminated within it now,
there to later show the way for
the rest of us who continue
marking our calendars
as we persist here on Earth—
still enumerating yesterday,
to–day, and tomorrow...
s jones
30 Dec 2021
.
Dec 30, 2021
Dec 30, 2021 at 9:11 AM UTC
-
Momma died two decades ago,
she would have turned
seventy-eight to—day
i woke up and spoke with her
this morning, imagining her
with a long red Irish mane
about Daddy being laid up in a
nursing home, my brother and
i hoping to fix him before he
finally gives up
she said— "_nothing_"
i think maybe this is because
she long ago saw the lights
up ahead, in a place where
human conversation would
be considered archaic
and birthdays rendered
as undefined
she is illuminated within it now,
there to later show the way for
the rest of us who continue
marking our calendars
as we persist here on Earth—
still enumerating yesterday,
to–day, and tomorrow...
s jones
30 Dec 2021
.
Happy Birthday Momma...
