sacrifices
the very hardest part
of this hard scary spring
is not hugging
my own mom
Amma in a time of Covid
from the smallest world
of anyone I know
she sends 50-year-old postcards
from all over the globe
elegant puzzles with intricate pieces
novels about whatever’s going on
(foxes, Incas, Aborigines)
she sends a tube of sock supplies
and the needles to make them
questions and answers
and a basket going over a balcony
to keep everyone safe
most of all
she sends her love
Molly
she keeps the vacuum calendar
and the trusty stopwatch
she buys masks
for the mailman
she funds the nanny
and the housekeeper
while they stay home
she reins in Gram
and a bouncy son
when you stop by
she can’t stop giving
Kira
in her outpost
far from the other mothers of her line
she waits for sun and sand and snowmelt
braiding a story
that will become a song
May
in my binder
of delicious delights
I spy her handwriting
over and over
she’s making life sweeter
one opened oven door
at a closed-up time
