You’re in love with your mother. That makes 2 of us. Together
we watch the violin of her body shave kernels of gold
off a cob, lather them in butter, salt & pepper the whole fortune
until a slow music floods our eyes. We’re like dogs, sad
& pining, our silence the only language we’ve ever believed
in. I want you to know she is younger than you will ever be.
How her hair nests tropical birds, how the metronome of her
breathing with you on her chest predates time. You will learn
some things about her no one else will ever know. You will forgive
yourself the thoughts of inflicting danger. You will tear us apart
& glue us together & I will never hesitate to look down the hallway
of your mind & fill it with a promise thrown on the floor like a bag of ice.