Do you remember that time when I saw you smoking in the back yard?
I don't know why we couldn't talk about it -
but we did -
and now I smoke with you.

You ask me to call you momma and you wish
I could sit on your lap again.

But we never could talk about him.
You told me one day that I would understand,
and
that is my curse.

I'm not sure where you went that day
that you took him, but I knew what would happen there.
A long hug. Something about love, but there was no
recognition
in your eyes – only resignation.
And now I know, as sure as the
white seams keeping time on my forearms,
what you wanted for me.

You asked me to call you momma and you wished
I could sit on your lap again.