Mama, do you love me?
Child, you know that I do
my eyes drift through the window
just remembering you
I read you books by the fire
in matching sweaters I knitted
one arm wrapped tight around you
as you nestled against me
Then you grew your first beard
and you left for the sea
my hand was cupped beneath your ship
and my breath was you breeze
Had you been dashed to the rocks
I’d gather each little bone
into a tiny clay jar
and then I’d take my boy home
And when the time was ripe
I’d plant you in myself again
and in a month or so
we’d nestle by the fire again
But if you love me mama
why do my bones feel so cold
why does the breeze cut like glass
and all the flowers seem old?
That’s called the growing pains my boy
it’s just the law of this place
before anything grows
we carve open the space
Long before the big bang
was an ache sad and blue
and then I lit the first fire
and started reading to you
Oh but mama I’m crushed
by things that I’ll never name
a secret box of bad things
I can’t take back and can’t change
I heard the gunfire my boy
and when I saw you weren’t harmed
I wiped your prints from the scene
drew a fog round your car
I was a witness at your trial
I laid my fingers on the book
without a twinge of regret
broke every vow that I took
But inside my heart ached
and it sank with surprise
when you scrunched down your head
and averted your eyes
Don’t you know me at all?
Did you think I could blame you?
After loving you so long
could I suddenly shame you?
Any blame that exists
I’ll wear it proudly on me
for all those afternoons spent
reading you pirate stories
Stories sung in your ears
when you were too young to know
plant a seed in that soil
and it’s certain to grow
And those men that you killed
I gathered each little bone
into tiny clay jars
where they’re waiting at home
When the spring comes again
they’ll be happy to meet you
with the violence of boys
in pirate stories they’ll greet you