mom dyes her hair
in blondes and undisciplined
white pepper cuts,
crushed on the kitchen stove--

in the empty spaces
between the dinner meals.

mom cleans up, and
she re-dresses at midnight
with her heros finding new directions
in their graves,

rolling and
joining in holy matrimony on her
shoulder blades,

discordant and loud
where her nightgown
rests--

as mom falls into sleep
with these streetlights blinking like
wedding bells and gray paranoia.