Mama of boys. Drinker of coffee. Lover of details. Seeker of light.
She owned the space
Between his breaths
And held it hostage in her pocket.
She slid her fingers inside
To dust off the lint,
I feel your pain
in every corner of the room
The particles
Shimmering beneath my fingernails
oblivious
is my favorite word
I sit across from him. This man that appears in my mind whenever I catch a whiff of vitamins. A man that paid me $50 a week when I was 10 years old to pull sweet potato slips in the field or follow behind the “tater digger” to pick up any good ones that got missed. He would purchase buckets of muscadines that I…