she never unpacked, your mother
any morning and she could be gone
but she liked to be touched
liked to be taken on window sills
or against front doors.
i met her at the airport,
i guess it was damned from the start
it just wasn’t right how she left
wearing a night gown and my work boots
gripping her suitcase, the neighbours
still joke about it; how maybe the umbilical
cord was still between her legs while
she waited for the bus.
i can’t say much other than,
all the doors are locked and
you look just like your mother.