a and j.

my mother attracts suicidals
they follow her, flies to honey, craving
sympathy, knowing it's a disease like hunger and
needing to die like they need to eat but
hoping she can stop them.

imagine what it does to a person, long nights
spent talking down siblings, best friends,
praying for that person who looked kind of down at the gas station.
I wonder if she can spot the look now.

it's hard to sleep at night when you're wondering
whether she'll make it through the night or
whether he thinks it's worth it to get up in the morning.

my mother attracts suicidals because she has
more life and spirit in her than most,
the kind that people scoff at. the kind that lets you
appreciate rain, flowers, fifth graders,
70-year old women with blue hair.

when you're ready to risk losing it all, you admire
people that fight everyday for the best parts of it.