A Nightmare Called Tonight

By simóne j. banks

a mother moans         the night is warm

moonlight shadows the roses a familiar lean

into bleak

what has she lost? a son?

scarce as any summer night’s answer

the emptying of his bedroom is proof:

fingerprints fade, black socks un-ball, drawing paper

releases color

a vacant cloud

now

set for 3

and who is responsible?

the air tonight is/not/enough

a fist grows tight in her throat

as her son last said amen or tried

walking centered/down/parallel/yellows

a familiar scene

of shadows    to bid coverage

and

fail

he was ours

the city cried harmony

stolen life 

left to rot

against melting stone 

and gravel

who captures the brusque weight of words?

from those mourning lips

the mother

is screaming now

the night is hot

moonlight shadows the roses leaning

midnight

what did she lose, again? a son.

scarce as any summer night’s memory

so, who is responsible?

there is a swell of silent horror the boy joins

to say goodnight

a bent head

a thread of fingers

eyes pressed closed

does/did his body have meaning to you?

oh Lord drowning/deep/in/throats

previously sung

against lips savoring

what has birthed and died

but who is responsible?

the mother’s eyes are swollen now

and the night             has not cooled

and there is no reprieve.

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simóne j banks (she/her) is a 3rd year MFA creative writing student at Louisiana State University currently writing her first hybrid book of poetry. Her writing focuses on ancestral threads of trauma, womanhood, family and love.