were you there?

by india southgate.

 
It was midnight in the middle of October,
Maybe late or maybe it was coming all along.
My mother stands at the window listening out,
Looking through the shutters, looking down,
Trying to find out what on earth is making that sound?
In the morning, she bursts through into the kitchen,
Trying to tell us of the noise:
    "Did you hear that last night? 
     It kept me up for hours, I couldn't sleep.
     I thought I heard a wounded dog whimpering".
Not once did she ask herself when the last time was,
That our neighbour's dog had escaped,
Let alone when they had kept a dog at all.
But she thinks she has a good heart,
That can calm a dog in distress,
Yet not once did she ask me if I was okay.
I had not slept.
Crying was all I could do.
I stared into my cereal,
Asking it if she knew?
Not once had she thought about the last time,
She had even spoken to her daughter at all.
Is that what it is to be good?

[unpublished]

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