Plums

It comes on suddenly

At the stop light

In the laundry room

While eating a plum

Since the diagnosis, 

on that sweltering May morning

It just shows up when it wants to 

No warning

During a hot shower

While opening the mail
In the car wash

When looking into your chestnut eyes

It’s the abrupt dread
The unadulterated heartache of being a mother

It’s the confronting of the truth that I cannot protect you
from all that will surely harm you

Not even your own body


It’s the promise that I will try, anyway

and in every way

And then comes the apology for something which I did not do