My mother

is a tent under a rainbow

I am

•        a-hiding
•        a kangaroo in a pocket
•        dressed as a raven in a field
•        my mother’s rod, keeping her upright,
         straight & narrow—tethered
         with stories & songs

Sky greys as I peep through the tent

Mother shuts her eyes

When rain falls we are waterproof,
anointed in holy oil—
bright & full of promises

Our prism breaks its heart into the enormity