My mother’s eyes
moth eyes on wings
eyebrows raised feathers
feelers
wanting to know every detail
of my day
did Sean steal my sandwich
could I read Little Bear
did we walk home Sara & I
waiting for the light
my mother leaning in listening
her usual face her yesterday’s face
out cold on the couch
swollen eyes bottled breath
sweat & cigarettes
today’s face her right-now face
soft as she offers sweet tea
a face invented by moth wings against
a dark window