Promise to Molt

Changing for one's self and for the ones we love

She was

a freak snowstorm in spring

cracks in the sidewalk

splinters on the arm

of his mother’s

rocking chair

where he took her milk

and knew her nightingale songs,

flaking asbestos walls

and sticky floors, 

chipped tooth

stubbed toes

and hangnails.

 

“I will be”

She said,

With a promise so big it hurt his heart,

“sunny summer days

long dresses and cool wind

bare feet and dancing

full moons and open skies

and for you, my soldier,

lemonade tart and sweet

on your parched tongue

heart so big

so wide and so spacious

you won't know where to start.”