At what point does the clock turn back,
reverse course, spin faster than usual,
that buzzing sound that use to go tick, tick, tick
now hums with annoying persistence, the hands
always moving, tracing an arc that has already been drawn
and quartered?

Mother, where are you?

This time, I didn’t get lost in the department store.

This time, I’m not wondering when you will get home from work.

This time, I’m not eating fried chicken from Wishbone up the street

or missing my brothers and sisters who moved out.

This time, I’m not waiting for daddy because he is long gone.

This time, I am alone and it feels like an eternity.

i don't want your dna
or your hair color
or your ambulance chasing thoughts
i don't want your random phone calls
your insincere inquiries
your baseless doubts.

where were you
when she was lonely?
what did you say? with no reserve...
no imagination...no moment in time
that meant enough.

and now you wonder where she is
you can't reach her
not because you have something to say,
not because you care,
not because you really love her
but because you think you must.

when I walked into the room, i knew i lived there
who brought the pictures?
you mean he came in
at night when I wasn't there?
the memory clinic?
two weeks?
no, noooooooooooo, not two weeks. impossible.
it's nice, it's nice here, yes.
know what to do for a man?
i'm going to wear my dress and show these
(she runs her fingers across the top of her breasts).
the line.
it's the first time she looked happy in awhile.