The Burden of Knowledge in Dreams of My Mother

In the dreams she doesn’t know
the hugeness of what is about to strike her down.

Unsure myself of the timing of it
and whether or not I should tell her now

I don’t. Ever. I only hoard
the feeling of tenderness toward her to myself.

The tentative nature of our swapped roles––
I with the terrible knowledge, she not knowing

I solicitous, walking her
towards the edge, the brink of dream

where, Dig! I order myself.
Make a way for her to the other kingdom.


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