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mom tells me about ghosts and teaches me backgammon

The drizzle drowned the silence
that had been suffocating the day

and the night tucked the suburb
into a bed of deep gray

and I came outside
where she was smoking,
chilling,
worried like the whole world
but solid as the patio,
shining on and on,
burning bush to me -
a miracle
holding me close

She asked me what was wrong.
Still calm.
And I spoke through a gentle weep
harmonizing with the tired rain -
and she listened like God
made me believe, though,
that everything would really be okay.

I could always trust her to catch me - to tell
when I'm hungry for touch, and I realize
she is amazing, but still
I doubt I'll ever comprehend
just how lucky I am
to have a mother that not only notices
but puts out her cigarette,
comes and holds me
and lets me listen to her heartbeat
for a good long while
while we talk about real things.

You know there are things in this house, she says.
I do.
We're not scared -
we're amused.
And there is some more
of us quiet, and close
while the rain whispers
everything out loud
and we both hear it
speaking the facts of love
between us two.

all this,
and a quiet I've deeply,
deeply needed
before she stands us up, leads us back
and I learn to play backgammon
in the yellow warm of the house.

The thought crosses my mind
far too often
that unless I'm kicked out of this heaven of a life
early
I'll have to watch her die
and hold that goodbye
for forever.

I can pay little mind -
I do believe
her miss-nothing eyes,
the paint on her hands
and the glitter in her eyes
while she wins

are hot enough things
to burn her candles in my heart
for exactly that -
forever.
Written by rowantree
Published
Author's Note
4-4-20
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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