You are pregnant
I know it now
I did not know it then
I am about six years old
You are a young mother
I look up into you
the way one would shoot
their eyes into a starry night
You’re caramelized glory
hair tied back
every strand accounted for
bouquet-ed by a floral hair band
your top is cut
from the same cloth
and the flowers bloom
across your belly
Your hands are busy
over a stove
but your attention is stolen
by a landscape
framed by a tiny window
In a tiny kitchen
You are not crying
but I sense
your sadness gathering
I knew it then
I know it now
You speak to me
assuming I don’t understand
but I understood then
and I understand now
I am leaving him you know
I believe you
because I’ve heard you scream this
at him and into vacant nights
I can raise you and your brothers
by myself
you are full of running
but you never leave
You thought I could not see you
I saw you then
I see you now
you spent your life
in tiny kitchens
looking through tiny windows
that framed landscapes
you would never reach
I spend my life
Running
for the both of us