999 Z55

a handful of moths under
the Christmas tree
wanted a new surprise
on your mother’s face
– it’s understood
that’ll do.

she opened the hand
her hair became eyes
wings
and legs
she cried for herself
and you cried for yourself

your childhood was so different
–
that’ll do.

she tells you she loves it
but you say
“it’s killing me
seeing you
crying”
she parrots your words
and your hands wrap
and you’re bathed in your own

so tender
next Christmas
give her a great white heron
let yourself
be feathers and a long beak
to pick out her cancer
and her fears

I miss you both so much