Smoke Signals

I found the hawk feather

it has been in the drawer

beside my bed all along.

My mother got the news

her cancer has returned

on my birthday.

I hope I haven’t caused her

as much pain

as I cause myself.

Thanksgiving Eve

She gets her sentence

And we eat dinner.

It’s time to tell the truth.

It wasn’t really a hawk feather

but it could have been.

This much love

won’t fit in a drawer

or a house or a poem.

If I had a hawk feather

I would send you a smoke signal:

“I Love You.”

jam