Bee wants to take you and Charlotte
this summer, Mama says.
There’s something I gotta do.
She looks at me,
like she’s trying to make me
understand, but I don’t.
She’s leaving us, too, then.
The hole in my chest widens.
I can’t say a word.
Mama’s quiet for a minute,
and then she says, I’ll sure
miss you both. But Bee’s
a good woman. Always was.
The silence moves around us,
like that flour in its bag.
She’ll take good care
of you.
She stands and crosses the floor
to dump what’s left of her water
back in the sink, and then she
stoops to kiss my hair.
I have to go to work, Paulie, she says.
I enjoyed breakfast.
we didn’t eat anything.
She’s gone before I can say
I love her, too.
So I chase her out the door
and yell it into the morning.
She smiles and
climbs in Gran’s car.
She drives off
without looking back,
even though I’m waving
from the porch.
And I’m a little bit glad,
since now she won’t see me cry.