MOTHER AT THE BEGINNING OF TIME by Brian Russell

it’s almost noon
and she’s still in bed with a headache

everything expands
the bedroom bursts with light an electrical storm rages
in the quiet space of her skull

her children move further and further away and grow
their own moons

this can’t be right
the data don’t make sense the figures seem to suggest
they’ll never come home

the shadows seem to suggest she’s alone
it’s cold

mother pulls the covers over her head and curls
into a molten ball
when did she become such a lump

of dense matter she starts to harden a little
god she could kill

for some water she could drink
an ocean