Put It Down
I’ve carried my mother’s body on my back since the day I watched the weight of her rock to and fro in a box teetering on the broad shoulders of young men
Their arms flexing, ripped tendons, whites of their eyes brimming with tears, reddened by liquor
I’m tired, the fretboard of my spine warped and thinned
Bucking under the weight of the haze of her mothering
The punctuated horror of her end obliterates all sweetness as it escapes me
Ambling half-made and tattered, between its lull and chaos
A life of phantom hopes and longings for things that never were
I’ve carried my mother’s body into every room, every story, every moment of glory and its inevitable blunder
There’s no distinction between the numbing loss and the sting of recollection
The frantic pursuit of sky to wing, the strangled cries of that which used to sing
Day 1 - One hundred words for 30 days with Mesa Fama and Stephanie Penn.


God damn it, Vickie! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!
I felt this. Beautiful.