sharp wooden corner of the lectern
clutching it tightly
threatening to cut fingers
sucking oxygen into very depths
looking up
facing wall of eyeless noseless mouthless wallful skin
waiting to hear about her
mouth falls open
mind eludes me
“I loved her”
pause. too long.
wall of skin ripples in sympathy
“she sang in the shower”
ooh he never knew me, oh he didn't, la la la!
water shut off. silence.
“and packed my lunches, even though I was old enough to do it myself”
now I have to.
pack my lunch. myself. too much bologna
“she would yell if she was frustrated, or mad”
I know that I am not supposed to say that
but I have to. Or I'm not remembering Mom
“and then she would prance around
the apartment”
“the radio was always on in the car”
even when she was talking to me
or kissing Gerard. *flash smile at Gerard* (he knows what I'm talking about)
“but she was a horrible driver”
silence. not really. internally, their noise
is insurmountable
did she really say that? they scream
“nearly killed me. Killed herself”
it was going to happen eventually
of course, you never actually believe that.
Ha. Skin just took a blow.
it's funny when something doesn't
go as expected
when one of the players drops the charade
“but don't think I didn't love her”
I did.
God knows I did.
“she would take me out on Movie Mondays”
school would get itchy about that
Mom would say that school doesn't own me
“and she always had a Philosophical
Musing of the Day”
what would have today's been?
Too much bologna makes dessert taste better
“which she would tell the radio man”
in between cussing him out
for inaccurate weather forecasts and biased news reports
“or the voice of infomercials”
she couldn't watch TV in silence
she was afraid that if she didn't speak,
she wouldn't think, would be brainwashed
“she was crazy”
wall of skin shifts uncomfortably.
Gramma looks dead.
Gerard looks like he just kissed Mom
(disoriented)
“I miss her”
yep.
“thank you”
that part wasn't planned
Mom would have never shown appreciation after telling the truth
I step away from the lectern
unsure.
fall toward the sea of skin
and I miss her. I miss my mom.
clutching it tightly
threatening to cut fingers
sucking oxygen into very depths
looking up
facing wall of eyeless noseless mouthless wallful skin
waiting to hear about her
mouth falls open
mind eludes me
“I loved her”
pause. too long.
wall of skin ripples in sympathy
“she sang in the shower”
ooh he never knew me, oh he didn't, la la la!
water shut off. silence.
“and packed my lunches, even though I was old enough to do it myself”
now I have to.
pack my lunch. myself. too much bologna
“she would yell if she was frustrated, or mad”
I know that I am not supposed to say that
but I have to. Or I'm not remembering Mom
“and then she would prance around
the apartment”
“the radio was always on in the car”
even when she was talking to me
or kissing Gerard. *flash smile at Gerard* (he knows what I'm talking about)
“but she was a horrible driver”
silence. not really. internally, their noise
is insurmountable
did she really say that? they scream
“nearly killed me. Killed herself”
it was going to happen eventually
of course, you never actually believe that.
Ha. Skin just took a blow.
it's funny when something doesn't
go as expected
when one of the players drops the charade
“but don't think I didn't love her”
I did.
God knows I did.
“she would take me out on Movie Mondays”
school would get itchy about that
Mom would say that school doesn't own me
“and she always had a Philosophical
Musing of the Day”
what would have today's been?
Too much bologna makes dessert taste better
“which she would tell the radio man”
in between cussing him out
for inaccurate weather forecasts and biased news reports
“or the voice of infomercials”
she couldn't watch TV in silence
she was afraid that if she didn't speak,
she wouldn't think, would be brainwashed
“she was crazy”
wall of skin shifts uncomfortably.
Gramma looks dead.
Gerard looks like he just kissed Mom
(disoriented)
“I miss her”
yep.
“thank you”
that part wasn't planned
Mom would have never shown appreciation after telling the truth
I step away from the lectern
unsure.
fall toward the sea of skin
and I miss her. I miss my mom.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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