Mama's hands were smooth and cool
When she pushed my hair back
and told me not to worry
Because sometimes mommies and daddies fight,     But that's okay
My childhood stretched before me
A long dirt road
where daddy's absence hung in the air
like
The sour smell of whiskey
On his breath
When he tucked me in
but that's okay.
at night he always had the same shade of lipstick smeared on his neck
I found it later
in a Walgreens downtown.
Revlon number seven,
"Not Your Mother's Mauve"
How ironic, I thought.
Because Mama never did wear lipstick
I remember nights
when she sat in the living room
Painted blue,
she kept her anguish
where I am not,
and daddy always will be
She kept him there
Suspended in a light
Not of scrutiny
but of love
And I hated him for it
Because my mother's loss would tear her apart
And I was left
behind a closed bedroom door
to grieve for
my
happy
family.