For 6(B) Sooni Park, on this Mother’s Day while I am (reluctantly & perhaps petulantly) “studying” 8th grade Chemistry with my son who is running a fever.
I dreamed of being away. By not bearing witness to
how Time could ravage a body, how places too could
fade with age, I could stop history’s decomposition.
If I close my eyes, I could see us children
running through the neighborhood meadow, crimson waves
of dragonflies netted against the clear blue sky. Our skin
burn glorious brown beneath the Rangoon sun.
Bo Ma, the white mutt, is barking from the neighbor’s window,
chasing with her mind, our running shadows past the wall of grass.
Our mother calls our names, repeating louder. One sound streams
into another in a seamless circle of songs she sings with heart.
It’s five o’ clock now. It’s always time for dinner.