|Apr/May 2018 Poetry Special Feature|
Found: in ABQ – studio art jewelry by Jessica deGruyter
The Day My Mother Met Neko Case
I drive my mother to acupuncture—
I share my current musical tastes.
Yesterday, we listened to Neko on the way.
I saw it in her eyes she liked Neko—
my mother looked like a woman getting
that dollhouse of her girlhood dreams—
all the rooms exactly how they should be.
For over an hour, they pierced
her body with curious needles,
forcing confessions hidden
under her skin. It left my mother
not able to do much else after but heal
under the spell of the Himalayan salt lamp.
As my mother walked out,
she looked as though she'd faint
like St. Catherine. Instead she calmly
asked about her next session, just like when
I was a boy and she wouldn't admit
what was wrong—we had to keep going.
We listened to Neko all the way home—
hoping for sung answers to eluding problems.