mother

you are
crouched, a green fleecy turtle
shelled
topped and tailed
writing with your left hand
wobbly grey letters
in the corner away in the corner
a list of tasks for me

you are
crawling, standing, staggering
(under the window where i always found her)
ascending to your feet
in Darwinian triumph
only to drop again, lie fallen
sink through green carpet
become one with its rolling wave
downtrodden fibre

without strength and without reason
every word we spoke struck like
a wrecking ball on steel
there were no battles in your head
only bodies lying in ditches
and gunfire

finally, with socks on your hands
burrowing deep in white darkness
larva in a dank silk-spun tomb
to sleep, for peace
i disturbed your rest
no leavemealone leavemealone leavemealone
leavemealoneleavemealoneleavemealoneleave

but if you knew that I was listening for your breathing