Babe.
It’s me, Viola
I am your mother
do you know how I love you
beautiful babe
golden curls and big blue eyes
how you frightened us
disappearing
going visiting by yourself
down the street
around the corner
alone
as young in months as
your mother
in years
my eyes search
are always searching
from the bus window
for a little head of
golden curls.
Your father drove a bus like this
did you know that
I worked the late shift
he picked me up
frightened, waiting alone
under the street light
at the bus stop
shadows in the trees
relief when the bus came
the only passenger sometimes
I sat up front
watching him steer
the big bus around corners
street lights and the bus
awake in the night
while the rest of
the city slept
we chatted.
Bus drivers are safe
they have to be married
you don’t get hurt that way
but when I told him about you
he offered money
to take care of it.
He couldn’t leave his wife, see
bus drivers have to be married
and he’d lose his job.
A bus driver makes more
money than a waitress
specially at my restaurant
university students are cute
but they don’t tip big.
The owners at my restaurant
they trust me
to lock up at night
gave me a card at Christmas
propped against the
cash register
my name on it.
Louise trusts me too
the manager.
I don’t see your father anymore.
He’s got a different route now.
Mama! why did you send me away
you said Viola you’re old enough
I was too young
a girl of thirteen can’t even get
a social insurance number.
Hans and Trudy
I was their housekeeper
all those years
should have been in school
they could have done more
gone to the authorities or something
I know that now
still,
but for Hans and Trudy
I might be spending my time
waiting under the street light
for something other
than the bus.
Babe. My curly haired
beautiful angel with big blue eyes
I wanted more for you
vowed it
that my past
would not become
your future.
Mama you promised!
you said Viola I’ll help you
care for him
but you fed him old food
from the back of the fridge
when I was at work at the restaurant
and he got sick — twice;
You napped
in the middle of the day
as he played outdoors
alone
and toddled
and disappeared
going visiting
walked those blocks
by himself
to my friend’s house.
We looked for so many hours
so afraid
before we found him.
We never bury our dead;
we take them with us —
just like we never
give away
our children;
we take them with us.
Babe.
They told me
a doctor and his wife
adopted you
I could never give you
what they can
but still
MY HEART hangs
heavy
like an empty
womb.