Knots That
Bind
She settles me for my afternoon rest.
I watch clouds through the
window
fingering threads securing the
quilt
that covers me: her
child.
She did the luncheon
dishes
a soothing
commotion;
but to hear
stories
never told, I yearn
for.
I've outgrown
naps—
my mind spins— I
dream.
When told Mèmé was
gone
she never said
forever.
Up stairs where I
am
unfinished walls give
outside
sounds a frightening
whistle
Can Mèmé hear it,
too?
Life presses heavy on my pillow
living is grave in our house.
Her mama’s gone. There’s
no time for endearments
share a secret, play a game
or explain 'head ache'.
She’s here beside me, I
pretend.
When the wind’s the
loudest
she holds me
close,
the long
afternoon.
Oh, so long.
Annette Paradis King
October 22, 2010