of course

Mother doesn’t like to be touched.
Makes sense.
She died years ago
of shame and loneliness.

Who might she have been,
if she had felt loved?

Her scattered thoughts,
her failed life and leaf
planted the seed
in the wrong place.

I feel her screams
being pressed
right into my bedroom window.

I was burning myself
in cold and dark
to rescue her.

Dark Lady,
where are you?

I don’t know what to do.