Sarah Burgett

Mother

The dingy apartment lies

Amid brightly colored,

Half delapidated houses

Stacked atop one another.

Inside, the stench

Of cigarette smoke

And cat piss

Is stifling. My mother

Is sprawled out

On the seconhand sofa,

Her head

Buried in the grimy plaid cushions,

So my brother and I can see

Only dark tangled curls

On top of a skeletal body.

He is thirsty,

So I shake her--

But all the muscles

In my Kindergarten arms

Are not enough to wake her.

Nor the air in my little lungs,

Or the noise

Floating through the open window,

City traffic, wailing sirens.

But "My Bobby"

Is still thirsty,

And I think

I see tears

Begiining to well

In his blue eyes.