somewhere on your street
there is a mother
who kept her children home from school
tuesday of last week
who couldn/t scratch the dollar fifty / each
to send with them
to the stall
who paid a day of education
to erase their shame
who saved them from
comparing empty hands
with flowered flannels / embossed lavender soap
and silver photo frames
somewhere in your city
there are children
holding hand-made cards
collages cut from old target catalogues
who want to give the world / and are
too young to understand
the unconditional nature
of their own mother/s love
somewhere in your neighbourhood
is a woman who / for ten days
has been hiding the last three eggs
at the back
of the barely working fridge
tomorrow morning
she will use french toast
and sugar sprinkles
to sticky the apologies
from her two boys eyes
she will trim the mould
from the edges of
begged baker-cast-off bread
& say
it doesn't matter
all i really need
is a smile
in a damp terrace house
just across the motorway
is a woman who can/t shake
the cold she/s had for nineteen days
who will wake up anyway
frozen toed
from lack of autumn heat
let her daughter snuggle in her bed
and beat back the chesty hack
to re-energise dr suess
there is a woman
right across the road / from you
so consumed
by landlord/s letters
empty shelves / shadows
beneath her child’s eyes
the blind trust
in every infant gaze
that she will not even notice
tomorrow
it is mother/s day
