When mama comes home
she’s wrapped in heaviness
like she stacked all the bricks on the corner upon her shoulders
side-stepping around in her minimum wage shoes
the mark on her arm barely healed
working sick in the twilight
making ends meet in sorrow
home to an old house leaking air and salvation
When mama comes in
so tired her eyes burn
her hands losing grip
her work hours stretch out
skirting a path she knows well to nowhere
It’s all subsistence
crumbs in the pantry
ghosts in the past
the house itself
crumbling around her