Eva Jane Peck

When Your Mother

When your mother
was dying
at home

playing doctor
was nothing crass
               it was just us

going off
to make a place
with ourselves

and listening
to each other’s
hearts

You were a
good physician
such work it was

to fight
her vaporizing
gentleness

You filled
the empty
paper bag

with a hot
tight breath
of virile rage

it raised up
defiantly
before you

and you
sucked it back
in defense of

your immortal right
to her soft
long hair

***

February

                                  The dirt is soft and deep!
               you said

                              outside balancing

                                             on a brick wall
               taller than me

               You were blowing on the wet window

                              and writing
                                             with your finger

                              pretending to smoke

                                                            with the air
                                             in the dark

               Inside at the bar table
                                             all steam and talking

                                             everyone existed
                                                                           behind us

                              Schools of snowflakes
                                                            slow fished
               the lampposts

                              and I came to you silently

                                             like a new tooth
                                                                           in the night

***

thestrawberryfiretails

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