One
by one
each star falls
into my laundry basket
then each lightbulb
followed by my childhood, hopes
her edges might soften, my mother’s
stopped
her protocols. They’ll give her
all the painkillers she wants.
The next days, blue-sky liars,
cetacean slow, I move through deeps
humming a song in the language of day one,
days unaccountable, I can only attend
the washer, fold clothes,
shirt, pants, shirt, shirt . . .
Jonathan B. Aibel is a recovering software engineer who lives in Concord, Massachusetts, traditional homelands of the Nipmuc. His poems have been published, or will soon appear, in Chautauqua, Pangyrus, Lily Poetry Review, Cider Press Review, and elsewhere. Learn more about Jonathan and his work at jbaibelpoet.com.
Beautiful poem.