She sang lullabies like a driveway

The gravel rolled off her tongue

And sounded like steady rain as it hit the cement

It’s the only sound sympathetic enough

To touch your black and blue

Without causing anymore ache than you already have

The sound holds me like a blanket

Made of black velvet draped over my mother’s arms

It hurts like nostalgia reminding me

That I am too big to ever be held like that again

Even if we weren’t in a cemetery

Anyone would be stupid to stop it

I felt like I walked in on something I wasn’t supposed to

But I watched and listened

As the sounds of back-country

Flowed from the mouth of this woman

Who did not know I was watching her

Her bated breaths were a sermon

Beggin’ her practitioners to accept death

I would have marched to it

Even if it led me to the edge of a cliff

I’d have stepped off careless

Holding on to the idea of home

She finally realized I was listening

And stopped long enough

To shake her finger at my nose

Before continuing

To let the gravel pour from her mouth

Onto a block of cement

Probably the same size as the casket it marked

It begged me to stay

Like a lullaby

Placing me back into my mother’s arms

Reminding me

I am way too large to ever be held that way

Again