A Fool’s Plan

by Lindsay Smail

I hit the highway, headed west
to the old family home.
A time slot carved out of lists and laundry.
A morning appointment kept
after dancing up the sun—
and I am weary now.

I try to wash myself of expectation
in the driveway,
but still, I’m there to mend,
repay, and maybe love.
It’s a fool’s plan I never tire of—
but I am weary now.

I offer her tea as we stand
on the once immaculate kitchen floor,
and struggle to find sugar and spoon
her cupboards a moving target
of relocation and surprise—
and I am weary now.

I want to help, to fix and carry,
but in the tangle of her backward travel
I am a forgotten child,
a potential roommate,
an old school friend.

I tease her out and light
some lost memory of child and mother,
our old pact of humour and delight.
It sparks then fades—
and I am weary now.

— from Juniper Volume 1, Issue 1