Beating Goes On

Your help: a lot of head shakes

and motionless standing in doorways. 

My screams go into the floorboards.

Full body carpet skin rotations.

Reverse, reverse!

Pull, spin,

Bop It!

Your words infiltrate the insulation that wasn't

installed by a loving mother and son duo

together on a cloudy Sunday morning.

Instead, a room shoe box

glued, taped, and painted by a solo first grade girl.

A sorry-but hits the chewed gum framed around

a fantasy's big bay window.

Bug guts on the most sensitive of all skins.

I quickly wipe the remains onto my skirt

without washing my hands.

Just keep walking

to the nondescript fast food joint

or drug store to shoplift some makeup.

But she isn't there with me anymore

to share darted glares 

at shouts from moving cars, horns beeping

The lamest of all attempts at a hip hop beat from White Guy 2000s. 

Would it have made more of a difference?

If my parents would have given...

the much to be desired, REAL domestic beating

of their generation.

"You don't listen!!!" the big black void

in my chest karaoke sings.

I beat on my heart only once

to make it all fall out

and stop.

The Mother's Day cardstock is in the mail.

Inscription forever blotted in pink ink;

You can still have that long awaited abortion, Mom.