Sometimes I hear her
On the stair.
When it's dark
And the hours are small
My breath hitches
In my throat.
I whimper
And pull the quilt to my chin
The floor boards creak
As she reaches the top
And I screw my eyes closed
Praying that she is not there
A soft tread closer
To my bedroom door
I hear my breathing
Ragged and hoarse
Despite the dark
I sense when the door yawns open
The air stirs slightly
And she is beside the bed
In the dark of my closed eyes
I see her
That awful ruined face
My heart hammering
Lips cold and dry grace my forehead
Sleep tight, sweet child
Barely heard above the pounding in my chest
The pain in my heart
The house creaks and settles
The heaviness in the room subsides
Tears track down my cheeks
As I crack open my eyes and whisper
Mother
