Sleeping with you all these years
has been the equivalent
of our relationship folded up, put into an envelope
and pinned to your chest,
like you were a child
in grade school
who kept forgetting his milk-money.

Mommy pins it to your pocket
so that you have milk before naptime.
You dont need to learn to remember,
you dont suffer the consequences of not remembering,
there is always that sweet chocolate milk
right before you lay down
in a darkened classroom,
the best part of the day.

You never grew up, did you?
Never learned to stand on your own sturdy legs,
never came out from the shade of your mothers apron,
her sweet tendings covering your life like honey,
antibacterial and caloric,
fattening your life,
making it seem substantial,
making it seem built upon firm foundations, honeycomb.

And then we started to play house,
and I took over,
sending you to work everyday
pinning your two quarters to your chest,
writing your name on the inside of your mittens,
reminding you to eat your vegetables at lunch,
waving goodbye in the morning,
spreading my legs for you at night.

You've had the good life.
Never having to remember.
Never having to suffer the consequences.
Never having to think about it
just put your quarters in teachers hands when you get there
and you'll get your reward
at 2 'oclock.

03/05/2009

Posted on 03/06/2009
Copyright © 2024 Vikki Owens