My Mother's Face

Claire Scott

My mother’s eyes
                  moth eyes on wings

eyebrows raised feathers

wanting to know every detail
                  of my day

did Sean steal my sandwich

could I read Little Bear

did we walk home    Sara & I
                  waiting for the light

my mother leaning in    listening

her usual face     her yesterday’s face
                  out cold on the couch

swollen eyes      bottled breath
                  sweat & cigarettes

today’s face    her right-now face
                  soft as she offers sweet tea

a face invented by moth wings against
                  a dark window