“What the—” I reluctantly open one eye. “ugh, who is making that racket?” I roll out of bed, struggling to focus on the source of my abrupt awakening. A glance at the light and then the clock- good grief, it’s not quite 6 am. Through the window, an almost perfect FRAME for the scene, I spy two children. Deeply serious, as they POUND the telephone pole, nails spill from little fists, a hammer boldly if imperfectly wielded. “Hey, you, what are you doing?? Don’t you know what time it is?” Two pairs of eyes turn to meet mine. Two faces, STOIC beyond their years. Brothers, I am guessing. “We lost our kitty,” the somewhat taller one says, “we’re putting up a notice.” “Yeah!” The shorter, doubtless younger brother, chimes in. “it’s says we will give a re-ward if you find her.” They must be 7 and 5, I am guessing. “Very wise to put the notice on the community KIOSK, but did you have to do it
now? At this wretched hour? Alone? Where are your parents?” My words are not meant to sound harsh, but they must have done, because now two pairs of eyes are welling with tears, previously steady lips are now trembling. “Oh bloody hell,” I mutter. “Okay, let me get dressed and I’ll be right there, you can then tell me the whole story.”

Georg’ann

I often found my mother sitting
in the dark, so QUIET
her brown eyes ringed with circles, high cheeks
hollowed below the bone
she called the easy CHAIR “Mother”
vintage plush brown with faded buff flowers
two weary and worn women
one cradling the other as she twirled
black hair around her PINKY for hours on end
there’s a photo somewhere of me on her lap
fair and frightened, arms wrapped tightly
around my Raggedy Ann doll
companion purchased from a flea market KIOSK
tender girls sensing danger
ensnared by these haunted mothers

Heather