Mama, When Did This Rain Begin?
If I could find ruin’s root, if it revealed
itself like winter berries, like the saw-
whet owl, the white birch, leaning.
If I could trowel November’s hard-
pack, I’d pull up long-rooted
neurons, start seedlings, fresh
shoots. A reliable row of heirloom
memories to ripen on your kitchen
windowsill, warmed synapses plump
like hothouse tomatoes. If I could
sew you a new
myelin sheath, I’d make it flannel
thick and sturdy, to fend off––
If I could stitch your torn
pockets, pull out laughter, lint.
Mama, your coat is drenched.
Darcy Smith’s debut collection, River Skin, came out in June 2022. Smith was awarded the Please See Me Fourth Annual Mental Health Awareness Poetry Prize. She is a Certified Sign Language Interpreter, Buddhist, kickboxer, wife & mother. Smith lives with her husband & their cat, Miley in New York’s Hudson Valley. For more information visit: www.darcysmith.org