I dreamed she got a tattoo
my mother
[didn’t even approve of tattoos]
on her back
she lowered her robe for me
to see a map.
It looked like North and South
America
silhouetted in black.
She talked
strangely, spooning coffee to make
cowboy coffee,
called ‘cuz it wasn’t perked
just grounds
boiled in water, rather gritty.
Need a dock
she said, for the boat when it reached
a city.
She always wanted to live there; without
the map,
how would she know where it was?
Confused
I stood sipping this burnt coffee wondering
about her;
that sore-looking tattoo on my mother,
her escape
to some far-off city, not wanting to ask
why or when
she would leave, longing to ask her –
take me.
