dreams of my mother, absent.

18 01 2009

My shoulders lurched me off the bed

when I dreamt my mother dead.

They shuddered in the morning

while pigeons cooed by the window sill.

The crash was not real, but still

I mourned

cause it’s months since I’ve seen her smile;

gums exposed like pink seashells.

and she’s not there to lay me down,

to whisper the press of night away

it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay


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