My mother
who used to hold me closer
closer than an arrow
grazing a doe
seeing as death flashed before its eye
just to blink and trot away
with more care
than I'd have as
my fingers grazing
something so fragile:
a life line
my fingers rebound
and recoil
against something
that I held closer
than my mother
Trying to splay
my fingers to
feel a pressing
back,
only to see
as it burrows
further
the lower I fall.
Nothing else
held me
closer than the
letters that
fell from
that rough pink
tongue
at my knees
my hands busy
to decipher
the characters
into the letters
I never will
write to my
family.
May 21
May 21, 2026 at 10:26 AM UTC
My mother
who used to hold me closer
closer than an arrow
grazing a doe
seeing as death flashed before its eye
just to blink and trot away
with more care
than I'd have as
my fingers grazing
something so fragile:
a life line
my fingers rebound
and recoil
against something
that I held closer
than my mother
Trying to splay
my fingers to
feel a pressing
back,
only to see
as it burrows
further
the lower I fall.
Nothing else
held me
closer than the
letters that
fell from
that rough pink
tongue
at my knees
my hands busy
to decipher
the characters
into the letters
I never will
write to my
family.
