Mothers’ come to visit
in the middle of the night.
There must be something
unfinished,
maybe there’s something
more to say.
Mothers’ come to visit
from the other side of the grave.
Mothers’ come to visit
in the middle of the night,
While I sleep
I hear her speak,
she only visits
in my dreams.
When I open my eyes,
sit up awake,
I know that Mothers’
gone away.
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The remnants of the previous hour stretch out pink before me, a medicine cabinet supply exhausted, the end to my reality. I resign myself the sticky wetness on my face and hands, no reason to clean the wretched mess my life force draws to end. A constant pounding at my door reminds me why I’m…
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