i envision my mother as a child conversing with by eric cline

I ENVISION MY MOTHER AS A CHILD CONVERSING WITH

god. words for
music when she
peers into the
sky with three
hollow sockets
for eyes. some
place over the
edge of vision
a piano plays.

her father’s face is
covered by spools of
polyester clouds and
his words sound like
the hollow hum which
is only heard as one
crafts a still-life,
the pear next to the
orange next to three
apples, each of them
more rotted than the
one drawn beside it.
 
the mask gives
form to air. i
feel my throat
knot as i open
my mouth. next
to the mask, a
doll takes the
place of every
thing that was
not yet there.

✱✱✱

Eric Cline is a poet currently residing in Dumfries, Virginia. He serves as a staff writer for Yellow Chair Review and his poems can be found or are forthcoming in Crab Fat Magazine, Vagabond City, Sequestrum, After the Pause, Clockwise Cat, and elsewhere.