you wait in the car with your dad
outside a pretty house
hear children in the back yard
inside is like a polished tomb.

you are inside suddenly,
creeping in
see a figure
by a big triangle window
that goes all the way down to the floor
arms crossed,
shoulders hunched
it is
mother.

you don't talk to her.
you have to do this
she doesn't matter anymore
she's done the same thing
once before
it is only fair
what goes around
comes
around
but something keeps you there
on that shiny floor
glued
staring
at the pathetic shadow

they
refuse
to
go.
we say
"please come,
we haven't seen you in so long
it will only be
for a little while
we will bring you back
we promise
we just want to see
you grow up
just a
little
please."

the oldest girl
crosses her arms
like her mother
but her shoulders
are spread strong
her angles defiant
she says
"we will never go with you
we don't even
like you
you
are a liar
don't
touch
us."

we leave
strained hands on steering wheel
we grieve
like we have for two years
we know well how to do it
the woman in the pretty, empty house
gets the four little smiles
to keep her company
we get
the lake we make
with our enduring disappointment
to drown in.

thank you,
mom.