Kristin Heyder
My mother started melting
first at her toes
She always wore socks
so none of us would know
When her ankles turned to soup
she used her boots as feet
and poured the drip of herself
down the Kitchen Sink.
Once I caught sight
of skin soup rolling down her thigh
I yearned to know
but was afraid to ask why.
Every now and then
while we would play cards
I would spy her fingers dripping
down the Ace of Hearts.
After she lost a leg I had to ask
When will that happen to me?
No answer, instead she hiked Stump atop Sink
and rolled Pant Leg up to Knee.