Halandzsa

midnight freeverse about my mom

My mother comes in my room
I stop reading my phisophy homework
And lay my head on her legs.
I push my nose under her bosom
As she goes scavenger hunting on my cheekbones
Lokking for blackheads, pimples
Anything ready for popping.
Her two index fingers wrapped
In supermarket-brought papertowel
Poke ruthlessly at my cleansed skin
Nails ever present, meddling flesh.
I breath in the smell so similar
A token of my childhood, the hours I spent
Snuggled up to her since then
As the frayed edge of the papertowel
Keeps tickling the vein on my neck.
Her eyes magnify each little bump of my skin
And when i look up at her
I see her lips pushed together in concentration
Just like I always shut them together
When going in reverse in my driving school's parking course.
This feeling, this scene
I know it by heart
And I know, this is what safe, what home
Has to feel like.

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