March 2, 2011

Somebody tuck her in tonight

I remember the day
my mother dropped
me off at kindergarten,
her lips pressed
into a funny smile
that I know now
was a trick
to stop her chin
from quivering.
She’d never left me
with a babysitter
but this was easier,
releasing me into a crowd
of scrambling affection.
No one could love me
like she did
but there was power
in numbers.

My friend’s mother
died last night.
She got tinier and tinier
and then you couldn’t
see her anymore.
But she is there.
She is floating
and waiting
until her daughter
is surrounded.
It’s a numbers game.
A mother’s devotion
has no edges
but if we all press
gently into her
laugh with her
hold her
somebody tuck her in tonight
her mother will see
that leak
in her daughter’s heart
is being sandbagged
with love.

She will smile
that funny smile
and whisper: whenever it is windy
that is all the mothers
who have floated away
looking in on their daughters
and blowing
them kisses.