My mother’s home today claims a note to sing a solo and then
she acts like she’s okay when her
voice falters through crescendo. She wiped her tears
and the conductor instructs the
pianist to start again.
She acts thorough but
her voice is thin veiled
like a whisper of something that
died with wind.
Then her throat clutches a key.
She holds her stomach
and she starts again.
My mother’s home today dances ballet above a field of pine.
the music streams and her
blood pools a stage, but
she smiles at the crowd and
puts a plastic face. My mother’s
home today hosts the opera.
acapella sighs, and heaves and …
Deep breasted huffs painted
in lies upon canvas upon canvas.
My mother’s home today picked
A note to sing a sorrow.
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