The Left Side of my Brain on the Right Side of a Page

Kitchen

Kitchen

You've always liked the kitchen.
You're in it nearly every minute of the day.

"Mommy, I'm so hungry," she rambles bluntly.
"Make me something to eat."
Mom says, "Darling, pull up a stool.
Only the finest things for you.
Although days of playing can be rough,
Mama's here to fix you up.
Cupcakes and pizza are in the oven.
Pretty soon, you won't be hungry."

Then a new day, she's talking well.
Daddy's never home.
"Where'd Daddy go?"
Mama says, "He's left today,
But it's okay.
There will always be tomorrow."

Tomorrow came slowly.
Dad didn't come back.
She's sitting in her little stool,
Not so little herself.
"Mom, who's that guy that left today?
I don't like him in our house.
Dad will come back.
You know he will,
So why do you so much doubt?"
Mom takes out the tea bag,
Adds the ice and sugar with skilled fingers.
She doesn't, she won't, say a word.
She's entrapped by her utensils.

"Mom there's a bruise on your arm.
Your eyes are so inflamed.
Mom, let me look at them please.
I promise I can take away the pain."
Mom smiles. "Darling, Mom is just fine.
She's cooking in the kitchen,
She's bandaged up,
She's preparing a meal in which we can dine.
So get to work.
Your studying comes first."

"Mother, you're crying; you never do.
Come on, Mom, tell me what's wrong.
I'm a doctor now, the studying is down.
What are you crying for?

"I thought you'd be happy.
I hate to see you like this.
It's my job; I'll fix you up."
Mom nods, wipes her eyes
Smiles through smeared makeup.
"I'm just so happy, baby girl.
You've done so much better than I ever could."
It's not true. It never was.
Because dinner was always cooked.

But when I went to tell her that,
The clock had far past rung.
The oven was on,
But mother was gone.
The food was never cooked.
"Mom, I'm going to be a mom,
A mother just like you!
I'll put dinner on the stove tonight.
I'll boil your favorite stew!"

Then there's mama, right where she was,
Where she always would be.
Mama isn't crying any more,
No, Mama is as happy as she'll ever be.

"My Mama went to heaven, baby.
My Mama went to sleep."
I looked to my stomach,
The pill bottle, the floor.
No, it's not truly true.
Cuts and bruises,
Scars and burns,
Mama fell asleep on the kitchen floor.

I never liked the kitchen.
I tend to avoid it in every way.