Mama

And I don’t know how she is Atlas
And I don’t understand how her shoulders stay up

And once her children were so cute, so teeny, so teeny tiny

But now lay cuts into drywall

Harden anger in their necks
And let silence fill stiff air together

But in summer 2011

Their laughs streaked the windows of the cars they once had

Never fitting who they were exactly

Traded in and sold now

For convenience

For comfort

For show

For their own children

But in summer 2011

They were her children

And her shoulders were much softer then

A place for a head or hug

No muscles tensed up to hold up the world

Only a space for the one she had made

And they tell us everyone has problems

Every rosary bead has a name

Decades of problems

Decades of children

A decade for each child

But hers were so so cute