For My Mother

Published March 23, 2012

We were drinking tea in Starbucks the day I learned

to love you again. Love, whole, and full,

no room for air; love like drowning.

Creases in the skin around

your lips, as you smiled, two crescent moons

either side of your mouth.

I had forgotten your warmth, how it

bloomed from you.

In that smile, your existence broke over me

and, sitting beside you, I knew you had

come back to me, knew you were mine.

Love rushed out of my body,

crashed into the empty space between us.

It thrust its way through my chest,

I felt it in my fists, my feet,

as it danced it’s way around my skull and spine.

Taking the cup, tight, in both hands,

I turned my face to the window,

away from you, scared you would notice

love falling from my eyes.

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