A month

I think I am a little bit crazy.
Mom arrived in the mail at 6 pounds
in a box from the Neptune Society.
I brushed my hair with her hairbrush
to mix up our DNA.
I can't unpack her makeup bag,
it sits on the shelf in the bathroom.
My daughter wants to be emancipated.
She yells at me with pirate talk,
runs away for days.
It's Ground Hogs Day.
My cat is living on the roof,
afraid of our new dog Ellie
my mom's dog, now mine.
She killed the old rabbit.
I am bruised.
I cry my stomach feels a punch.
I sigh keeping tears at bay so I can drive.
God reassures my sighs with a truck.
Letters that read GRACE
I follow it home to my exit.

2.5.05
Martha T. Lewis