You are the mom you are the mom you are the

This one is a bit odd, and I'm not sure precisely what it's about - probably reincarnation. It came to me like this after a psychic reading I did for a friend; I just wrote down what I saw.

This poem is only published here.

Madonna with Halo of Stars. Artist unidentified (Italian). Smithsonian American Art Museum and its Renwick Gallery

You are the mom you are the mom you are the

peace. Because manic is only a label

that means the atmosphere hasn’t yet expanded

to accept the colors spiking from your crown,

and I don’t mean Mary, looking at the babe

serene like no other worldly mother.

This place is never sane, but you are, and he is,

and you’ve touched down together

here before, taken turns stacking the plates.

I can’t stop picturing him in your kitchen,

face lit with warmth and laughing with the pasta,

wonderfully seasoned, tossed and strange.