our elderly mothers

our elderly mothers

our elderly mothers come back
through the large tan doors
into the waiting room full of young mothers
who are frantic and green
erotic and with child again
and mama comes among them
searching the people for us
finds us in a quiet corner away from the kids
thumbing the gardening magazines
and we in turn watch her eyes
before she conjures her strong smile
watching for the diagnosis
it’s always in her eyes
the frank news
before her posture returns and she feigns
not needing her cane
educator, pastor, community mother
smiles for everyone
but a glance at you from darkness
she is witnessing her own destruction
and you are in orbit around her
interpreting silences

this year was short ether
cardiology clinics and the
immeasurable waits of the specialists
waiting in the business square atrium
among the roses
watching birds and counting cars
i have spent whole days hungry and sterile
stainless among the magazines
and slept and awoke and waited
until she came and said let’s go
usually to the pharmacy
then to eat

i was her best friend
and sometimes did not want to be
i was her son and needed her in that way
but when there was no one else to tell about
the hysterectomy to remove the dark thing
showing on the x rays
she asked myopinion
i simply wanted her alive
and told her i’d be there

but after a season of hospital halls
and nurses clicking and scuffling by
transfusions and the lilac quiet
she stopped going to her appointments
stopped driving
we missed the scheduled bloodwork
and the breathing treatments
each week was some private suffering
but no more doctors

she was in her night gown for 4 days
she couldn’t sleep laying down
hadn’t been to church in 2 months
when she was up to it
i’d take her to the store
she’d sit in the car and watch the people
and i’d take the long way home
past the new houses and her old school
open the windows to hear the children playing
when she was barely verbal
i’d sing with her
say funny things and rub her back
talk about africa and alabama
and how we’d go and go when she got better
oh the things we were going to eat
and the places
the poems we would collaborate on.

it was the pan of windless summer
and very hot
the crops were full of white light
and the dust was furious at the roadside
the air conditioning burned out
gave into the temper of the season
i kept trays of ice and would wrap them in a towel
lay the towel on her
we suggested she go to my sister’s to keep cool
she refused
and the heat settled in around the house
like a belligerent stranger

after two days of much wrangling
over the warranty of the air conditioner
they fixed it
she asked me to feel her belly
it was hard and dark like volcanic glass
her furosemide wasn’t working
wasn’t cutting her water
and her asthma began to betray her
kept her panting
everything came with so much effort
all that sky and no breath

she wanted to tell me who she paid the mortgage to
to show me the papers
but she started to cough
and needed her inhaler
i rubbed her back until she calmed

the morning was still and bright
i didn’t hear her up and around
so i let her sleep
went out into the yard
and to my car
after about 30 minutes
i eventually came to her bedroom door
to check on her

at the edge of her door i watched her shoulder
i noticed her feet were dark
i watched her shoulder further
it never moved
and i watched longer
and longer
it never moved

my mother would have loved obama
the idea of him
from apartheid in the south
where black men stood at the cusp of living
confounded by the lack of choices
from terror in alabama
to infinite territory
she would have driven to church in her silver cadillac
and testified to the greatness of god
and the mysteries therein
oh they would have holyghost danced
and shouted and claimed him
oh they would have preached
and been thrust back to youth
she would have eaten from the new hope
the sermon of it
and been sticky with the sweetness

i hope she knows
and i hope she is alright
and knows that i am moving toward being alright
that we continue on with dignity
in the limited knowledge of being here in this life
and have adjusted ourselves
to the loss of our flesh
now that we are without compass
or honing point
in the widest
emptiest country
in the world

the line is long

there are three kids waiting at home
disobedient and lazy
one who looks so much like his father
that you have dreamt he hit you
the meanness
the way he asks for things
or stands in the doorway waiting

there are the neighbors
who start their activity at 8pm
in and out a thousand times
and let the security gate fall shut
talking from the balcony
fighting
smoking shirtless on the steps
listening through the wall
and expanding expanding

and because of them
your kids can’t go out of the apartment
such a simple desire
they want to play
go down the street
run
but sometimes there is blood downstairs
and someone had broken the gate
so the dopeheads can enter
the grass is gone
the picnic table is a gang summit

downstairs someone has moved a girl in
she has no name
in january she had no jacket and a black eye
yet she followed him everywhere
you saw her lose half her body weight
her eyes have lost their color
yet the boys light on her back like vultures
some nights you hear them
each one taking his turn
next the slamming of the gate
then a sketch of radio in the brawling silence
and your little girl is sweet
just big eyes and smile
and an easy way of reaching to the world
this is her gift
and it is her hazard
one man looked at her
and she responded with her innocent love
his brown eyes were unsure at first
his pitted cheeks shook and settled
like a greasy spinning plum
and he smiled back at her
a hungry smile full of ashen teeth and desire

and there is a car every 10 minutes
with a planet subwoofer
a hemisphere of profanity
sideways in the street
calling to someone upstairs
and they call back down several times
and behind that car three other cars are waiting
but he won’t let them pass
nor will he pass on

and there is the neighbor
who thinks she is your friend
and talks of high school aged boys sexually
who goes to the night club 4 nights a week
despite her four children
she has money for marijuana
but none for ground beef
her hunger is criminal
you can feel it
she takes things
money items
space and time
and of course needs a ride everywhere
introduces you at the store
as her bitch
in a community kind of way
and if you say no
what happens?
she is a vehement enemy offended at the marrow
and if you say I can’t
i don’t have time
what happens?
what of the children?
what fragile peace will you have mortgaged?

and there’s the woman across the street
who doesn’t like you
who thinks you want her man
who has never spoken to you
and stares you down
who has tried to walk past you
and knock into your shoulder
and gets wide when you exit your car
her little ones are disrespectful now
she wants to fight you in front of the children
one night she was drunk
screaming
“a stuck up bitch drives this car
and she gonna get her ass beat”
so the screw driver in the cupboard
says carry me
the culling knife small enough to fit in the sleeve
sometimes in the mirror
the survivor in you practices stabbing her
and keeping cool
sometimes you cry thinking
what this place is creating in you
thinking of your children
them having to face this woman
and her eyeless brood

there is no money anywhere
just the dull allotments
the wage that
cancels itself out
confusion in a country of desire
dollar tree canned goods
and three liter sodas
the kids want everything
the candy
but you have come to think of meals
how to make the ground beef last
the dollar tree frozen waffles

the car has been knocking
this morning it started on the 8th try
a headlight is out
your eldest has been suspended from school
and down at the clinic
there are a thousand people
just sitting about
drowning in the terrible wait
the clinic wants 45 dollars you don’t have
your little girl’s fever has muted her with heat
and the women who work there are arrogant
they parade about among the trash
speaking in that diplomatic monotone
that veils their disgust
they wont touch you
they lay the forms on the counter
when you ask for a pen
they point to one on a chain
they hope you go away
the welfare dept hopes you go away
the cashier looking at your EBT card
the middle classed women who
mingle with you at the bank downtown
at the stop lights hope you go away
and take your children
your elderly
your bloated ankles and fevers
your scoliosis your impacted teeth
your bad skin your ringworm your obesity
the spider bites on your dirty arm
and die

thank you (for my homegirls)

today
where morning is vast
and absolute as the memory of love
green love in clear water
and earthen as adobe and the
alluvial new mexico in a blessing of rain
and i dare run again towards the sun
and breath
a beautiful heaviness like life
that takes the shoulders
tilts the head
filling the face with sun
miles of easy breath
here where the knees are fine
the body unlocks in rhythm
exclaims the early hour
the stretch and worship
oh, the body unburdened
i want to thank you
oh sistuhs thank you

saturday unfolds it canopies
like astronauts seeing
the world rotating into the
slow burn of sun
so bright the oceans glow and marble
the astronauts rejoice
some in worship
free and profuse at the edge of the unknown
it’s like that
loving you
oh, thank you
ferris wheels on fire
18 wheelers carrying flowers
marking the hour gear changes
ghosts in the pomegranate orchards
the shriek of starling the gulls
syncopating in harvested fields
lift into season and freckle across memory
i long to levitate into dawn
and thank you
oh, i want to thank you
just like that
as simple as saying red is red
or you are very beautiful and wise
in the plainest print
in a clarity so lucid
that even untruth is truth
the chant in the
procession of moments and
the heart in cadence
the composition of the man i am
oh thank you so much

every shadow that consumes me
and lets me pass
each day coming into day
and rejoicing in the acacias
and each night moving moon
through a thicket of walnut trees and universe
each house asleep and on fire with dreams
or each small hope anchoring our collective humanity
is like me being contingent to your love
relevant to your love
honed by your friendship
and introduced in kinship
thank you thank you sistuhs
as honestly as a quiet kiss
i want to thank you
for companionship for comfort
for recognizing me among the millions
of people seeking someone in the stillness
of their long lives
before i forget
before this beautiful moment passes
before i am confused and mix the metaphors
and lose what i am able to voice
before the tears flow from the ocean i have become
and i cannot say it
oh, thank you sistuhs
thank you

here behind the heart
at the marrow of new bone
where memory catalogues loss
and regret is a loneliness wandering an
empty country
this freedom laughing out loud
as simple and grand a joy as sleeping late
as easy an elation as greeting a friend
or wearing new shoes
oh, sistuhs
where we stand today
in the trepidation before traffic
before the city unhinges and the cargo ships
moan into port and populate the early bay
this nomad exclaiming to the world
i am alive
and strong by love
and on my way
thank you