Its Alright Ma

No is not an answer
but a rock that splashes
endless rippling questions
Your No drops on the ground
among the stubbed out butts
where a small, sick bird huddles.
Neither of us wants to look.

The small cracks in your voice
as you say, No, we can’t
spread like crazing failing ice.
I do not reach across and
take your nervous hand,
sit arms folded and solemn.
Drowning alone and cold
is my own foolish choice.

I do not want these words,
fold your No up and stuff it
in my wallet amidst all
the litter of responsibility.
I watch your soft green eyes
caress the sick nestling at our feet
which flies off beyond rescue.
No, its chirps, I’m alright. Really.


Zouxzoux said...

Just "wow".
So you've been there too.

Mark Folse said...

Thanks. Been getting their slowly but surely of late if you read down the blog.