To Make The Day Be Silent
I have used up all the time for wondering.
Have given my mothers mind away for
memories. Flung love into the creases,
held down a singing telephone. She, the
she that is my mother and I will go,
together under cover of my eyelids,
asleep inside my mouth. I cannot wipe
away the suffering. I fill salt and pepper
pots. Black for the one hole and silver
for the many. Upside down in my palm,
to stop up the holes then the shift
upright quickly to stand completely
still.
Susan Bazett