Unraveling

Plastic taste of water
in her jug, loose threads 
in a crocheted rug
How long before it unravels
Remembering my ball in the boot
Just wanna kick it, kick it
and run
My feet punching holes
in the snow
Mum yellin` at me--
for doin` nothin`
Grabbin` me in a hug squeezin`
the breath outta me, she reckons
Nana`s better off here

She`s far better off there, Sis
Look at her
she doesn`t even know
you anymore, and this place
look at it
No, I don`t mean it like that
Don`t look at me like that
I called
I wrote
I came back didn`t I?

How could he look at me
that way? He was a liar,
a prattler, like Da
My raw bones crawl into
the edges of that shawl
The one Mum crocheted
her fingers gray and worn
This bench is cold
and on the road a car
slow and shined as death drives by
it`s hard to breathe--
the playgroud bairns stare
snowballs at me
Mum is near a memory
I`m losing 
my
way home

Written by Reka Jellema, Brendan Bonsack and Kathryn Ross                            October 2014


Copyright Kathryn Ross & Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack    2014