Thanks (Mom)

I scavenged the thoughts, Strained them from mind Set them to the corner to take form And I remembered... I remembered falling down steps And off trees: Sometimes being pushed off, Sometimes merely slipping, All the same- falling. I remembered falling a lot. I remembered sitting in class Trying to learn some maths And feeling a touch Like of a nursing child Pulling on my shirt, exploring, What hasn’t been seen before; The hole from the nail in the door When I had passed too close… Yeah, I froze like a ghost. Hoping not to be seen. Shame placed me in the hole And put me on the stage And shined light in my eyes And I was seen… me and my shirt. I remember it well; It was blue with dragons. Aunt Vadlyn – my mother’s sister- Bought it for me, two Easters past, I wanted it to last, So I kept it, though it was torn And slightly over worn – It was part of the handful I had. I hated when mother would bring What might seem, everything, For everyone, But her daughters and sons. The neighbors got theirs. The workers got theirs. From the little we had, I was always behind the fad. My shirt kept me afloat, But, the hole and the poke Were much like, A sea, the ocean at whole Trying to get it; I wanted to drown, The dead has no shame. The dead had no shame. The next week I wore my shirt again In the regular order And she didn’t poke, No one saw the hole. I didn’t remember It even. All was good. Now as a man, With money of my own, Though not plenty- Enough to buy shirts- I still wear those with holes, But now without shame; Thank you mama. Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis