“kitty kitty kitty”
Was All She Could Say
I cannot now recall my mother’s throat
In words. For more than twenty years her speech
Was dead before she died. A muffling bloat
Occurred inside her brain. It was a screech
Of blood that silenced her. No sentence came
From her again. That was her sentence. She
Appealed in moans and yelps and screams to shame
Us. Everything she barked was like a plea
For understanding. And of course no song
Came out of her again, that voice that sang
From local pulpits like a tender prong
From Christ. The stroke was a throttling clang.
Her singing almost makes its notes into
My ears. Her speaking, though, became a zoo.