Mom puts the plate
in front of me
but I am too hungry
for biscuits
to see her
as anything
but the bringer of food
the washer
the dryer
the back of the house
whether she smiles
as she pours
the coffee or gravy
or turns to cry
I never see her
wipe her hands
hang the towels
exhale with a sigh
too much on her plate
till lunch
It was the lifting
of his shoulder,
only the flipping of his hair,
the sigh.
He turned away.
The weight of it
pressed her stomach
till she felt scarred
and blackened
like the imprint
of a Hiroshima victim.
Only the dust of her
left to cry.
The dark summer night
hid their desire
till the stars came out
and kissed their skin.
Her breath came slowly
only a sigh
but he inhaled it
till it filled his soul.
The rhythm of the night
lulled her to sleep
and he blew out the stars
with only a sigh.