Black Ink Howl: mother

Showing posts with label mother. Show all posts

Sunday, February 10, 2019

I searched your hollow eyes

for my face, elbowed my way

through memories to see

if even a sliver of mirror

held my reflection.

All I found were wisps of blond hair

and a little girl clinging to the edge

of the drowning pool crying

she’d never learned to swim.

Gone, pulled under by the rapids

of erasing I watched myself disappear.

Mama blinked and spoke, “I can’t find my baby.”