LL Brown

Going Home

To bumble means to move
Forward; To arrive
Without grace
Alone and public.

Tiger is ego bloodied
And deliberate
Secreted and sudden.

Home is me inside
Mine; my own within
The bird in my hand.
A deep breath--in and out--
That shakes nothing.

Now. This is what I say, what I mean:

I bumble,
I tiger,

On Vacation

Beside the pool
Mother and grown daughter sunbathe
On long low lounge chairs
Reading magazines.
A grey haired man arrives
To say, I'm back.
They don't look up. He says
Is that it?


I am my son's mother
Whether he likes it or not
And he doesn't
Like it. He is 33;
This is not a phase.

I called him
When my mother died. I left
A message on his phone because
He never answers
When he knows it's me. I said
Gram died. Give me
A call and he did.

When I hear his voice my smile is so big
It hurts. Still
He didn't come to the funeral or call
For over six months and only then
Because he needed money.

That last big smile of mine--
So wide it bared my teeth--
It might have been
A scream.

Copyright  2013 LL Brown

M. Brown has been writing fiction since the third grade, but is new to writing poetry. She has taught creative writing in unlikely places and holds all forms of writing central to her life.