Mama

Figs under the apple tree
She treasured while biding
Abashed thinning of a book
Gifted by bones exacting
Their calloused hunt

Your tender feet chasing me
Through thoughts and arteries
You’ve claimed a stack of her love
Gracious as an old gas leak
Sighing her name

Run and run while
Nothing’s behind you, child

Today’s the day she would say
In the morning where you lay
Kissing your cheek tenderly
Brushing your hair wishfully
Mama

She turned off the lights and asked
Pupil now do you see?
My body’s gone, yet my voice
Splits the dark as ax to tree

Swung low those arms casting stones
Like pine in the mill saw
Dust settles on the spindle
Rabbets hanging by the jaw
Gnawing through dovetails

Rearrange the bones
Tearing towards hell composed

Today’s the day she will say
In the morning where you’ll lay
Kissing your cheek tenderly
Brushing your hair wishfully
Mama