Mother wakes up
before all our dreams do.
There’s the everyday sound
of the door creaking open,
windows yawning,
spoons and pans screaming
a ‘hello’ in unison.
More sounds arise –
the fish-seller outside,
staring at our door;
a plate falling off;
seven sneezes;
a timer in her head
that says two people
have to be woken up soon.
The loudest, though,
is a muffled voice
from a cupboard
she likes to forget.
It wraps her up,
gets close to her ears,
says,"you’ve been a fool, lady,
look what you could have done
and look what you have."
Sometimes, in the afternoon,
she finds herself.
Takes out a book.
A tear in her eye,
she says,
“I feel like going away.
Doing it all over.
Sometimes,
oh, man,
sometimes I want to scream.”
On most days,
writing sounds exactly
like my mother.
