We are in Grandmother, Stella Tilson’s, kitchen in the west Texas rent house.

All the adults are squeezed around the oval table.

Everyone is dressed up.

Stella, wearing an apron, with hands on her hips

is leaning against the sink.

She is proud of the meal she has prepared.

​    Fried chicken

​   mashed potatoes

​    green beans

    cantaloupe

    sweet iced tea.

Granddaddy adds more sugar.

Mother is sitting next to aunt Barbara.

They both have wavy, luxurious hair

& are wearing dark lipstick & earrings.

Mother’s posture suggests she is reaching towards someone.

Because I remember this house,

I know that she is sitting near the doorway

to a room where a card table is set up for six grandchildren.

This pose is a nurturing gesture.

There is tenderness in the way she holds her arms.

This is a portrait of my mother.

This is what she did, solely, and to the best of her ability.

Tender is the flesh that burns under the weight of your touch
glowing shades of blushed rose and flaming poppy
gradually retreat and give way to blooms of damson and plum
masterfully planted along the plot of my body
given eagerly
for you to garden

You left your shirt.

I knew I was screwed, 
the moment, 
I smelled your scent. 
Tears falling from my eyes.  

I knew, 
I had to see you again. 

                                —for Tree C.

I’ll always have this place for you, 
and the hum of air conditioning,
and a dog at a distance
barking–
Jennifer Jupiter paw deep, 
pushing, yielding poop mountains 
aside to get out from under fence—
that’s funny to me. 

One can’t help but hate that dog—
she’s wondrous irksome,
her chocolate gaze
under Chewbacca frizz
with one, fuzzy dropping eye,
and two lascivious lips.

People called me speechless-dumb 
much earlier on in life. 
I was indeed insecure, 
insular, 
surrounded
by my whole crowd of family. 
I could rely on them.

Come with me,
forward many years later,
and quick a felt, bristling crazy 
I became to each of them—
something in the way.
No. All I want is safe—

money came from Friendly’s,
a waitressing job
put toward my bargain trial medication,
You’ll be public speaking in no time!
and all my loved ones died.

All the safe ones. 
All the harbors in the corners of 
my childhood home—a squared circle—
and I stepped outside the door.

I have felt so alone since Mom died. 
It is survival.
This is only survival.

Dry spells ~ are not dry
it’s just the soil taking a rest from the rest
after being repeatedly tilled

Dry spells ~ are time to flourish
allowed to fallow
not wallow in what isn’t

Dry spells ~ are being
as it is to be
not budding into expectations

Dry spells ~ are nature’s dance
a way to enhance
breath into song

Dry spells ~ are not spells
more like quells
soothing roots

Dry spells ~ are quite moist
in the rest from the rest
new growth is flourishing

They must have been startled

I’m glad you finally reached out. I’m sure you have felt lonely dealing with yourself and not talking to anyone about your troubles. I understand when you express that you don’t want to get anyone else involved. You don’t want to owe anyone anything. But isn’t owing an apology to everyone greater than any favor you may have to return? If the bonds of your love with others are weak, where shall your strength be found in times of need? You don’t think there is a reason to be better, but you don’t know what is yet to come. You may miss opportunities because you aren’t ready. Champion being more optimistic; your current pessimism has you static in a place you are not fond of. Here’s the deal: if you end up liking where you are currently better than where you may end up after changing your mindset, you can always go back to the place you are now. The alcohol and negative thought patterns will be just as accessible in the future as they currently are. I haven’t heard back from you in a week, but I check your social media profile daily for a glimpse of how you may be doing.

Mom, I’m sorry that I bothered you before bed.
I know you’ve been working all day, and we didn’t get to see each other at all.
You must be so tired.
I thought it would be nice to say hello.
Will you tuck me into bed?
Never mind, my sister can do it instead.

Mom, why hasn’t Dad called?
His girlfriend told me she was going to make me sleep outside.
I don’t see them anymore.
Why doesn’t he want us?

You were so young when you had us, so
I shouldn’t resent you when you get mad,
Nor for the father you chose for me.
It was just a mistake, after all.

Mom, are we really moving out of our grandparents’ house?
You really love your new fiancé,
But I thought you would be less angry with someone else around.
Please tell me how I can make you happy.

Mom, I’m sorry for coming out.
I’ll go back to church and pray it goes away.
Just please don’t hit me again.

Mom, I’m sorry for leaving the house after coming out.
I was scared and sad, but it was selfish of me to leave home just because I didn’t like your reaction.

Mom, I don’t feel like I can trust you anymore.
But now you’re being nice to me again,
Now that my hair is a natural color and I wear dresses more often.
I’m really happy you got the daughter you wanted in the end.

Mom, I wish we were like other mothers and daughters.
We’ve never had a heart-to-heart conversation,
And I don’t know if that’ll ever change.
But Mom, I still love you.