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




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: