Motherandum
by Aaron Cohen
Mothers:
Years have passed me by like
gray bodies dragged to the water
by bulls and walking birds.
Bullets.
Other years were different.
All cruel.
In my head: bodies piled high
enough to make another bridge and
thirty years later we have all crossed
so many, leaving the dead
in the wake.
Together: we hit the road, in light, our
shoes bleeding through milk
and wine.
The truck that hit me was hauling
groceries to all of them. It kissed
my arched thumb as it careened by
Left me standing there facing the
wrong way but for several minutes
I was saved.
All Rights Reserved 2008.
Do not reprint without Author's Permission.
