Tangled in Transformation by Camille Faustino
 

A Tribute to Mitski’s “Class of 2013”

by Hollis Ackiss


my mother makes separate noodles for me

in a big pot of chicken noodle soup

because she’s been on a diet ever since

she got out of jail, and she still loves me

yet she doesn’t know my name

and when i wake up at eleven pm

to feel the bowl is still warm, sitting

in the fridge, labeled with a name

i remember she called me by,

i realize why my brother and i

stayed up so late that one night

ambling in the kitchen

to see her make spaghetti at one am

in her denim and name tag

when she only got home from work

an hour before, and she never saw

any new dishes in the sink.

now i stand on my tiptoes

to reach the opaque glasses

on the top shelf as i pour a drink,

every light off in the house except

for the fridge, filled with soda again

even though now it’s all diet. i know

i should sleep soon when i have work

tomorrow, and my back hurts but

i can only let her hold me

as many times as i can allow

myself a moment of reprieve;

the first night we moved into this house

we watched a movie in silence

and with my head hovering

over her shoulder she says

she waited for this moment.