Mom
Mom
That was Binky. On to Mom.
No! We didn't bury her!
I had had an altercation --
Nothing serious -- that, I'm sure.
At five or six, it didn't take much
For me to throw a fit.
Didn't stomp my feet or pound the wall
Or raise my voice one bit.
Instead, I simply went inside --
Myself, that is, my mind.
I shut my mouth and zipped it up
And stared like I was blind.
Mom had to go to work that night.
She would have rather talked.
I knew that too and almost did.
But ultimately balked.
No sooner had she left the house,
I ran to say, "Good-bye!"
But she was gone. The house was still.
I started then to cry.
I can't remember who was there.
Just had this awful dread --
That Mom was never coming back --
The things I should have said --
Could not now ever make their way
From me, again, to her.
I cried all night 'til she came back --
My vision all a blur.
I couldn't explain why so distraught,
And she couldn't understand.
But she'd come back and held me close,
That distance fin'ly spanned.