Staggering in Blue by J.D. Knight - HTML preview

About Mama

Your ghost lounges in my shadow

And the sun

That smears blindness and obliteration

Over

This crust of grief

Falls like an angel into the

   Lilac and mulberry sea

Hope is a thorn, my friend

I hang by a pinky

You’re as cold as you are warm

On Sundays,

We would dress

To the blue music

It would fill the room

With the rhythm, O’

Sharp and beautiful rhythm

Of melancholy

Once in church,

On the cold cherry pews

It would hold my hand

And all the suffering made sense as a necessary sacrifice

For beauty

And beautiful

As a secret and mysterious, maternal treasure, of loving

And loss