Awaiting Mother’s Return

​
We need you mother, back
in that small kitchen with
the glossy white cabinets
coated in grease. We need
you at Christmas time to
untie those difficult knots,
like your gentle tar stained
fingers did when we came
in from the cold, to be
that nucleus, around
which we all gathered. You
were always good at puzzles.
You could fit these jig 
sawed pieces together,
matching part of a son’s
strong hand to a daughter’s
soft cloud of curls. Medicine
you would be; sedating,
melting away all malice.
We have betrayed you;
you, who thought we could 
be as accepting of each other
as you were of the world.
But we have damaged 
the family you left behind,
and we need you now, 
in your recliner watching
baseball and handing out
peach slices from 
Mr. Wilken’s fruit farm.
There was very little
that you ever needed,
except your children.
And now your children
need you. So, if you could
find a way to come back, we
will be waiting. 


First appeared in Oddball Magazine