Crocodile Tears
My Mom taunted me to save them
for when I really needed them.
Now I spill enough to bring on Noah.
I can’t stop crying, except
when I exhort a “stiff upper lip.”
Fortunately, I am good at that.
I cry and cry and cry, though I try
to keep it to when it is appropriate
like when alone or with my therapist.
I broke down sobbing all day last Monday,
my first time, called a cousin, called my brother,
my SIL, I think, now, I saved too many tears.
The answering machine blinks messages.
He begs me to bring him home to lie together
he only wants to be wrapped around me.
I picked him up to join his family for dinner
a difficult drive, again he focused on me
as though blind to their existence, painful.
My daughter drove him home, big mistake!
He tried to jump out of the car, she hurt herself
keeping him in with no place to pull off.
He raging, she got him through the door, they
took over, she was able to flee, still hurting.
His psychiatrist/neurologist says no more outings!
Visits must only be at the facility for our safety and
his. He’s not going to like this. I need to stay away
He has a friend, Melissa, who introduced herself at
our family dinner at the facility last night. They kissed.
It would be sweet if they were to bond, good for all three.
They seem well on they’re way, toward bliss for them and
perhaps less daunted for me.
