Going Away

 

Things, always pregnant with other things.

Ants of my mind

Ever scurry about their queen.

My hive-brain hosts them all----

Small fingers on the keyboard---

Tiny pink dresses----

Furry kittens in the yard.

Hallucinations all.

 

Mother, was that you who left,

Stealing a languid, pink bundle away?

Sara still suffers the thing,

And dies in deep

And somber violin strings

Tremorous like drums.

I pulled the plug

On the mournful strain.

 

Mama, did you bring me something new?

Botticelli babes float

Through her nightmares,

And Sara flings herself

To the floor sobbing,

"Is that all, Mother?

Is that all you bring?"

 

The ends of the small pink blanket

Fluttered like butterflies on her arm

As she walked through the door.

And so easy.  I watched.

One couldn't guess

That it's so easy.

 

Mama, was it so easy?

You forgot to tell me

The illness may take her.

You carried her out the door----

Returned with the blanket.

Nothing more.

"Mother's home," I said.

"Close the door."                                                                                  

 

 

B. Benjamin

Free verse

Bbp208