Your mom’s first tears
Throws the world upside down
Time running in reverse
A metamorphosis of status
Who is this person?
So human and vulnerable
Do I offer a shoulder?
A tissue? Advice?
It doesn’t make sense.
Mom’s don’t do this.
Mom’s aren’t in need!
Experiment: get the microscope
See beneath the veil of thick skin
What do I find?
Brittle bones and wheezing lungs
Slowing heart and thin blood
Who did this to you, Mom?
Only the mirror knows the answer
But our mirrors are covered with makeup
And so?
And so, we carry on smiling
At our mother’s tears
And pretend that they’re a river
That we can frolic in
Pretending that her kisses
Are for a child who didn’t break her.
S. R. Crawford 