Lilian

A blanket wraps tight around my legs,

I shuffle my feet to feel them

I think she is coming today, I think she is coming

I am nervous and afraid

because I am here and she is not

I am here gliding across linoleum,

pushing off on my wheels with all my might

the halogens hurt my eyes

she was once so young, a spring,

my wildflower, my wild girl

“Agnes, Agnes darling come here”

I think I hear her little voice “mama”

I look around, I smell medicine

then honeysuckle…milkweed–

I clip the paisley sheets to the line,

she dances between them, her shadow spinning

“When you get old will you die mama?”

“Oh that’s a long time from now, honey”

is that her skirt flashing into that room,

her little bony legs and dirty knees

I push my way there, I see the nurse

“Is she here?  Is she here?”

“Lily you know you don’t belong here”

I’m pushed out, a cart of glasses kettles by

I think she is coming today, I think she is coming

I’m fed all these pills with piss-warm water

by the time evening pushes at our windows

I am tired, I am alone

hands fumble me into my nightgown

honey

milk

she is coming