is a big house with a mother in the kitchen
Standing, filling up her big hair and hard spoon
Patting her hamburger
Sagging in her baggy knee cotton spandex
Mother, is this my last meal?
Can I sleep on the floor once more?
Can your clock be God without any hands?
You dont have to say goodnight
So what tap tap
Then a twist
A protruded rump
A heavy chicken lick
A barefoot sip
Shes been up since four you know
The coffee lives on her teeth
I ask again, old lady
Will you let me sleep?
But after the ten-course meal no one will speak
The dirty dishes will become something to massage
The knives will float like sharks playing dead
Mothers vegetable peels will be something to clog
Im so full
We definitely ate her food
We thanked her