Hi mom,
the water is still boiling on the stove,
those magazine cutouts are still lying on the living room table,
scissors half open,
the dust collects around the pictures on the wall.
The tin foil wraps the leftover cake,
the hangers still hold some worn-out clothes,
we can still stumble over the wires in the bedroom
where the TV lies still on,
and cat hair gathers on the stained floral sheets.
A doll remains there, forever smiling.
See, mom,
the life we lived and the life we dreamed
grow further away from us each day
and there’s nothing left on this wasted land
but childlike wonder.
Hi mom,
it’s a shame that this place only exists in my memory,
as I lie beside you on this cold companion couch,
as I hear the nonstop beeping of the machines,
as the countless wires stumble upon you,
you, staring lost at the ceiling,
torn up guts,
the TV lies still on.
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