Texas
I invite you over for some tea and I trace the edge of the mug ( I trace the edge of the world with just my fingertips ) and I ask you what you think of my new poems and you say son a lot of them about grief, no? You used to write about love & it’s vastness and I say how can I write about love when I worry about how to cover my own ass every day my love has long been sullied and you laugh. I say don’t you make fun of my grief mama you welcomed me from my old home and raised me this way and you say son son listen you scared ‘cause you still got something to lose and if you got something to lose you can write about love ‘cause why else you scared of losing it? And I think I’ve always loved the way you loved how even our sign language has much the same drawl as the one that stains the edge of your voice and it’s home to me and I say mama why have you left me out there the coast don’t feel the same as your hurricane summer and raging winter mama I’m afraid of the sunny weather and its apathy and you say it’s okay you have the power to keep me and my children never stop writing never stop writing about love and I say okay I love you