Mama
If mama could see me now, I’d say
You’d be jumping for joy
I used to stand tall on the old dusty chair next to the flower pot she used for an ash tray
I’d tell her, mama those flowers won’t grow like that
They need the dew drops that absorb the morning sun lights beams
Hair pulled back into a braid, I'd jump from house hold object to object
Playing kings and queens
She’d walk by kicking up lint balls so big,
I’d hold onto her feet, her sweatpants smelled of bad sex and old gin
Cleaning wasn’t her religion she used to say
Snow falling from her hand, is how I described it,
I’d tried to pretend it was Christmas
But everyone knows that the ash didn’t melt the same way
Mama, I’d ask her, tell me stories of your life.
Tears would run down her face as she cried all night
I would sit there holding up grocery bags of bottles but I never got through to her
The store tab was maxed out as they sold cigarettes and vodka for me to give to her
They knew me there, my age and all
She would just sit there yelling,
Acrylic nails tapping on the fake wooden table
Asking why I was late, and why my grades were unstable
The bruises I didn’t ask for, I called them body art
They twisted blue, green, and purple up and down my arm
Mama I’d tell her, please sing me to sleep.
She couldn’t hear me over the T.V and the new boyfriend that was passed out drunk as could be
I got older as her habits got worse
Then one day I left, silently into the night
I thought I was free and I would never come back
That’s my mama, I left all by herself.
In the battle of demons with no way out
Eventually I caved
And would visit her periodically, braid her hair, we would converse
But mama doesn’t hear me anymore, even less then before
That car that she crashed into, left her brain dead with so many scars
Mama I’d tell her, I’m getting married this week
I cried when she asked who I was, then said I should leave
I tried to give back, and pay what was owed to her
A good place to stay, warm food and clothes
She never gave any of these to me,
But her past was a mess and her future was worse
So what if she hurt me,
My love for her always came first
Copyright © Kc Seligman | Year Posted 2015
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