I should talk about you Ma,
but what is there to say?
You lived like an illusion
inside of a nightmare.

You were born to be a
queen.  You said so
so often I wanted to run
away forever and never
again hear you prattle.

I wanted to love you but
failed.  You were brave
in your illness.  You wore
your psychosis like a
badge.  The crest of
madness suited you.

When you died they laid
you out like royalty.
Finally you composed
the scenery for us,
your subjects.

Michael was unmoved
while I cried.  Daddy was
a wreck washed up on
a lonely island.  His raison
d'etre gone forever.

My tears were a shock.
The last two minutes you
took from me.

I have never returned to
your lonely palace

underground.


Caroline Torpey Shank