'Close' only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades
That's what my Mom said
When I told her the game was close--
The one where she beat me
placing wooden tiles on the board to make words
PLAGERIZE
OAK
W
NOISE
Her smile unfamiliar but warm;
Her hands like mine--long fingers, short nails.
The sun was dropping outside;
Her energy too.
She must sleep now--
Next to the large metal fan that whirred away the world
and changed my voice when I stuck my face in it.
TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER
I would be shushed to bed.
At midnight she would put on her white pants, white top, white shoes with large white soles
Place plastic ear plugs around her neck
The ones where I could hear my heart beat if I put the metal circle on my chest
Lump dump lump dump
The same way it beats now, only faster
because I know you are leaving
And when I arise, you will still be gone
The tiles still out on the table to fidget with
Reminding me
We are not horseshoes and hand grenades.
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