Mother

I have this reoccurring dream
That I'm up at a podium
Delivering your Eulogy
And the truth in it
is bitter and haunting
[Because the words that fall off of my lips,
clarify that you are now in another place]
And now our backs no longer have to break
From the weight of your undiagnosed mental illness
And how your each and every scream somehow killed us

But whenever I come to visit you
I still watch you take your pills with wine...