sometimes (most times) it's easy to forget how much you are loved

the years i lived

in a cave
my mother's never come to visit
not once in the ten years since we shared rooms and slippers
and so many movies

she's never seen me in the streets of chicago or new york;
the state we live in barely holds us together
it's liable to burst at the seams- pennsylvania

and what can i say for myself
i ask the clouds

am i really so small
the mountains reply


we all turn to dust sometime