Anthology of Eleos

I’m A Musician Mom!

By


Sometimes I wake up 
and my chest is an accordion,
breathing in and out 
like it’s trying to remember a song
but forgetting halfway through the chorus.

Sometimes I’m the ghost in the room,
drifting 
       from my bed 
                  to the fridge 
                                to the couch
where I scroll through a thousand faces
and wonder if any of them would notice
if I stopped haunting this place.

Last week, a friend said,  “You’ve been quiet.”
I said,                    “I’ve been tired.”
but what I meant was,      “I’ve been lost.”

I carry my body like a stranger sometimes, 
stiff joints and a voice I don’t recognize.
Sometimes 
it feels like this skin belongs to someone
who knows how to live better than me.

When I laugh, 
I think of holding fireworks in my hands.
When I cry, 
I think of a faucet I forgot to turn off.
When I feel nothing, 
I think of space.
I imagine it stretching, 
empty and echoing,
the silence growing louder than my pulse.

Sometimes, I remember that my chest is still here
not a ghost, not a stranger, not space
just a heartbeat,     a map,     a maze.
If I can follow it, maybe I’ll find my way.


-waverly vernon

*originally published in WIA Magazine, Issue 03: when flowers fall

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