Highway Mothercode

In Chinese, light 灯 is written
with a fire 火 and a nail 丁

Growing up, my mother and I played
a traffic light game

Green for the words that were easy

Green______________-The weather was simple,
unobtrusive
Green______________-The house needs its lawn mowed
Green______________-It’s night and the dog needs a walk

Amber for the things we had to forgive

Red for the sentences that held us back

Red — “Love you”
Red —— “Miss you”
Red ——— “Could this have gone any other way?”

On the train ride interstate, I was at once
crowded and alone, following the geese down

The border South,

Wondering if I closed my eyes,
could I pretend they were starlings,

Murmurations, and the world would think
them exotic, rather than another cliché riding the Amtrak?

If I travelled far enough, I’d find one shot
in the neck, the only one that dared stray from the gaggle.

Amber______________-Have you apologised for something yet?

White peonies. Black oranges. Violet shelves.

All wrong ways of living.

When we pick up the phone,
do we start again from the beginning

Or wrestle away from the end?

You tied a red string around my ankle,
saying this is how we will remember,

The faux-umbilical noose criminal
in its spite.

On my next visit home, when I showed up
unscathed,

You threw rice in my face, saying
this is how you’ll forget.

In your final years, I told you
the sky was green, and it’s been

Green for a long time now.

You, having seen red for years,
hung a goose on the wall,

Struck between its clavicles
And driven firmly by a nail

Into the lid
of the mahogany mantelpiece,

Lamented you could no longer
tell the difference.