Midnight Rendezvous
It is with something less than
maternal goodwill that I crawl,
asleep and annoyed,
from my coveted bed
to silence your angry screams
violating the night.
We rock in the chair
that has been ours since
the very beginning,
ensconced in
Great-Grandmother’s afghan and
the VCR’s ghostly green light.
Mute now, but for
periodic, pitiful whimpers,
you cling to me like some
abandoned creature reclaimed.
Clinging back,
I am Every Mother,
an all-knowing, all-bestowing,
all-loving, all-forgiving
paragon of matriarchal perfection.
Feeling your sweet, soundless breaths
tease the tangles of hair
on the back of my neck,
my last trace of irritation
over interrupted sleep
dissipates in a hug, a kiss,
and a smile.
You will never remember
these midnight moments together;
I will never forget.
–from Mother of Sons,
by Jayne Jaudon Ferrer
