My Mother





You’re hurting her!


Take her off that white table.

Take back that she’s unstable.

Put her back into that ambulance;

Drive it in reverse

Far away from that black hearse.

Gently walk her up the steps and down the hallway.

Slowly transfer her from the cot to her beautiful bed.

Lay her under that lovely comfortable spread.

Let the tears roll up her face.

Make her pain drown.

Turn that frown upside down. 

Allow her daughter to kiss her goodnight. 

Send the overdue bills back.

Don’t permit her husband to slack. 

Let time travel to October 8, 1979:

Can the doctors give good news?

Can her life not consist of the blues?

Please, tell us her diagnosis was a misunderstanding.


If not, 

Can we find a cure?


I can’t lose her. 

She’s my joy, my happiness;


She’s my everything.

She’s my mother...


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