Sometimes I Need to Talk to Mom
Sometimes I need to hear the sound
of trivial talk
of her new green dress
the purse that matches,
the plans for dinner, meatloaf, Dad’s favorite.
Sometimes I need to hear Mom tell me
“It’s just a cold.
Drink hot tea. Stay inside.
It’ll be better by tomorrow, you’ll see.
Read a good book
stay warm don’t worry
It’s nothing serious.”
Sometimes the words matter deeply
I need her to say
You did the right thing
That friend of yours
I never trusted him anyway
Did I ever tell you that?
You’re better off without him.”
Sometimes it’s just the sound that matters
The hug of warmth
when I say nothing
about the date rape, drunken brawl
swamps of despair
fears of dark days, deep nights,
And the sounds sew a healing quilt.
“Did I tell you?
The shoes match the purse, what luck!”
Sometimes I simply need to hear her voice.