Mother
Wont Move
Cheryl Snell
Theres a hook
in the hall
where keys once dangled.
Theres no escape from change
that clouds the mind or sky.
Its for your own good,
her boy had said,
pocketing the jangling ring.
Behind drapes fisted shut,
a barricade chair on buckling slats
leans hard against the doorknob.
This front will pass, given
the woman stubborn with survival,
flashlight in hand, alone in an eye
blind to change closing in.