Mother me out!

The alley ended in the night
You were going too fast
And the child   his words   couldn’t keep in step with you
Those days   up there     in place of the moon    
a woman      sat squatting	holding a pie

These days, Mother!	 I take it out on the apple
And each day I leave the house to fall in love
but to no avail

The alley ended in me 

and tonight   of the house I wanted 	to buy her
just the image of a small window remains open
See! I’m closed down
I have thrown out the windows of the house
Going to buy some salt for the wound I have
and matched together some jigsaw pieces of the sea
so you come back from afar

Gone from our mother’s hand,
following the end of the thread that passes through your 
    sewing machine we are . . . Fate!

we have not walked at all
we have only trampled up
these footpaths

MOTHER ME OUT!