Grocery Store
Raleigh Walter
the freezer section is cold enough to turn my palms white.
shopping is never easy.
my eyes wander,
the white grows with each flick of movement. I've never gone
shopping with you, watched you meander in the aisles like my mother’s
same trips with you.
stoic behavior was no help to her, but it’s what she knew. this is how she loved,
fought, biting into the raw
hamburger meat.
closing doors moved her to the back of the elevator like the way animals
are
lined
up for each shot.
tiny child, she broke her teeth and spoke less. less was how she taught herself to breathe
again
she was an angry kid. anger was like spoiled milk of her mother, whose womb wanted
to run dry. dry sting. the red irritation my mother wore. she knew people were watching,
she just needed one to come over and say something.
something. something. something.
but the people always said very little. and so did her mother.