For the first time as I

 

by Philip Jenks

 

 

For the first time as I

 

cooked in the kitchen, I saw 

 

green light and the wisp of 

 

my mother’s savage solitude.

 

 

 

             Refusing all human contact,

 

 

 

her pure focus That invests 

 

an eye with the open and

 

shut of lids and doors.

 

No sound, just cigarettes in 

 

migrating monologue and

 

Now I’m 48 gambling in

 

terror

 

To never equal. Please leave 

 

me be. I am cooking. There

 

is much left to be done.