THE LITTLE RED BOOK
For a godsend: mother pilar gold
“Transitory relationship but profound in love.”
-pilar
Little red book full of unreadable poems
tumbling out of my drunken pocket
landing on Union Street, San Francisco
forgotten for a moment, rain pounding you and all of your secrets
my secrets, my heartbreak, my hurried lines,
she, the godsend mother, picked you up in that unending December rain
carried you home, tried to read my horrid script,
nursed you back to warmth, back to life
saving a year’s worth of journeys, a year ending in sadness
now you are back to me for a few more pages of work
then you may rest, work completed, poems worked out,
and that godsend sent me off with age-old motherly wisdom
taking bits of my sadness with her to throw away,
leaving me glued back together, breathing calmly on that sunny afternoon.
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