My house is haunted by empty chairs
that no one else sits in but her
Padded seats with upright backs
for posture, good for the spine
When I’m around my mother
I become self conscious of all the ways
that I contort myself
My natural acuity for folded legs and curved necks
reaching high up above our heads
ducking down to snatch things up off the floor
My everyday bumble and bluster
has never held such weight or grace before
She will always be taller than me
Growing up it was an arms race
to see if I would ever edge her out
Once we were eye to eye
I’d tease that when she shrank with age
I would someday see over the top of her head
But now with a new bridge built into her back
She will stay held just above me
You know they left out a line?
Step on a crack, break your mother’s back
Step on a crack, you will always want her back