Broken glass, dinner plates left uneaten,
Mirrors only good for showing me what I
Already knew. The young years, the naïve years.
Thinking, this will be the last time momma skips
Dinner every night for 3 months. The last time
You would be sent away from here, not seeing
You for months at a time, but it never was.
Hour glasses, filled only with anxiety
Run out, letting me know it’s happening again.
Huddle in my blanket, accompanied by
The sound of my fan spinning, wishing I could
Spin away with it. Like wind, alone and unhurt.
I’ve never looked like my momma. But I
Stare at my food like she did. I am her daughter.
Mariah Conrey is a first-year Graduate Assistant at The University of South Alabama, currently serving as Editor-in-Chief of Oracle: Fine Arts Review. When she isn’t bringing pen to paper, Mariah enjoys running, making homemade ice cream, and eating ice cream. She’s a lover of sweets, but nothing will ever replace the love she has for the written word.
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