As always, she leaves as she arrives: without ceremony.
Her voice dry and deadpan laments
how her hale dwarfed her son’s sickly stamina
as she hauls her heavy luggage into Your car.
You respond, quick with a quip
her skin’s bloom became wilt
but You felt her bones should forestall frailty.
You took the bait, and she’s ready
to bob and weave
returning with a haymaker.
Even if bones withered to dust
she would always hoist more
than Your lethargic self. Ding ding.
These are skirmishes,
fought beyond the bitter end
armed with voices loaded with
crass jokes, witty retorts, and vulgar escalations
accompanied with feast and frolic
birth laughs neither contender believed
would ever endure existence.
Yet You can’t ignore Your paunch,
or the dithers therein,
Bowels suffocating solace
into taut strained smiles.
You feel the ground quake,
tremors splitting the ground beneath Your feet
suddenly adjacent to a jagged crag
so steep all light entering the gap’s depth
surrenders to bottomless ebony.
You see her on the other side
a silhouette of affectionate memories
shifting further away each moment.
You find Yourself howling across the chasm
only ceasing when vocal cords rupture,
air vacating from Your lungs. As distance dilates,
Your body bolts before perception grasps anything
blindly crossing limbo.
Her eyes agape, her mind erratic
too petrified to break her static state.
Slowly, her arms reciprocate Yours
ginger fingers cusping rhomboids
her face resting on Your sternum.
Moments slip to minutes,
yet neither party dares budge first
a silent psychological scrap
to manifest mute reverence.
You would sooner perish
than utter these errant thoughts aloud,
but an epiphany strikes You
with the force of an uppercut.
To her, You are legacy, potential, and toiled pith;
to You, she is genesis, steward, and sanctuary.
No volume of speech could ever meld
such unstable bluffs, but neither You
nor Your melancholy matron
would ever fathom
the most restorative tonic lies
in the unity of an ordinary caress.
About the Creator
Keith Turnage
Part time aspiring writer, professional educator, full-time dweeb. Born with a combination of an obsession with creative media and an overactive mind to make my own.



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