Here, and makeup

The sun comes up, hotel staff bubbling
like hot butter
in the lobby downstairs.

I sneak out the backdrop
while she goes to Saks shopping for “foundation.” 

I’m trying to hold onto mine. 

Exit, stage left, get the staff out,
burn down the stage. 
The moon comes up; now 
we're all fine. Coffee and chicory
on the moonlit flames, in the open air.

After the life, after

the funeral 

I miss my mother. 

I always did.