The last time I was home
To see my mother
We hugged,
Exchanged pleasantries
My dogs rushed toward me
They remember my scent
My mother was wearing
A silver, circular pendant
Around her neck, and earrings
She wears these every time
I see her
She bought sushi
California rolls,
Pot stickers
And had extra
Just for me
She was scolding
My little step brothers
As they are a bit of a handful
And here’s a cheers
To old clichés
About misbehaving children
And Sushi
Bought by a wonderful woman
BY NIKKI GIOVANNI
the last time i was
home
to see my mother we
kissed
exchanged pleasantries
and unpleasantries
pulled a warm
comforting silence
around
us and read separate
books
i remember the first
time
i consciously saw her
we were living in a
three room
apartment on burns
avenue
mommy always sat in
the dark
i don’t know how i
knew that but she did
that night i stumbled
into the kitchen
maybe because i’ve
always been
a night person or
perhaps because i had wet
the bed
she was sitting on a
chair
the room was bathed in
moonlight diffused through
those thousands of
panes landlords who rented
to people with
children were prone to put in windows
she may have been
smoking but maybe not
her hair was
three-quarters her height
which made me a strong
believer in the samson myth
and very black
i’m sure i just hung
there by the door
i remember thinking:
what a beautiful lady
she was very
deliberately waiting
perhaps for my father
to come home
from his night job or
maybe for a dream
that had promised to
come by
“come here” she said
“i’ll teach you
a poem: i see
the moon
the moon sees me
god bless the moon
and god bless me”
i taught it to my son
who recited it for her
just to say we must
learn
to bear the pleasures
as we have borne the
pains
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