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.