Skye Crawford

I’m Sorry, Momma

The door cries on its hinges
It isn’t as deafening
as the scenes on Investigation Discovery
sprinting to your ears
from the room down the hall

One, two, three steps from your bedroom
to the kitchen where you get
that Diet Mt. Dew Momma
asked you for

	On the trip to her room, your toes hit the floor
	much softer and much quieter than she ever hit you

The door squeals on its hinges
It isn’t as assaulting as the
Marlboro Lights’ smoke
gripping your windpipe and
dripping down your lungs

Two, three, four steps to Momma’s bed
When you give her that aluminum can
you’ll have done something right
for once in your life

	On the way to her bed, your face meets the floor
	and blood from your busted lip swims with soda and tears

Your shoulder shrieks on its hinges
when Momma yanks you up, but
joints abandoning their home don’t hurt
nearly as bad as realizing
you never had one yourself

Skye Crawford is a junior majoring in English, Creative Writing, and History at North Carolina State University. Skye serves as the secretary for the University’s English Club in addition to writing for the school’s newspaper, Technician.

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