when mommy breaks down
nervous
you scour the bathroom
scrub the floors
wash the windows
do the laundry
dust the living room
change the light bulbs
when they burn out
clean the kitchen
buy the food and cook
for yourself and mommy broken
you walk through the house
quietly
trying to be air
as if the floors were hot coals
broken glass
or a bed of needles
you speak at a volume just right
tone emotionless
watch the news
late-night talk shows
the late movie
listen to the radio
at a volume so low you could hear
mommy’s breath in the next room
and you read about history
about triumph
about life
you go to school
on time
late or not at all
but you always do well enough
so mommy would not have
to leave the house
‘cause you know mommy shouldn’t leave the house
and when she does
you are always by her side
at the bank
(you wonderin’ where
she got the check to cash
in the first place)
at the doctor’s office
the pharmacy
some relative’s house
by her side
always
she needing
to lean
when mommy breaks
you break
into fragments
but if you are to survive
your blood must become glue
‘cause you must pull it together
you look into her eyes
around you and guess
guess if she needs a blanket
something to eat
the tv channel or radio station changed
or it turned on or off
any sign of life
while all the plants in the house die
or try to
but you can’t let them
so you take care of them too
you answer the phone
“oh she’s not in”
or “oh she’ll call you right back”
or “oh she’s sleeping”
or “oh she’s…”
you leave your friends
at the door
and it doesn’t even matter
what you tell them
‘cause teenage noise
would certainly disturb mommy
or you
or the stillness
and someone
something should explain
the quiet
“why is mommy…”
who cleaned the house
worked every day
raised four kids
single-handedly while going to college
bought food
gave you and every one
such good advice
“why is she so broken”
so you go through the house
looking for clues
you find papers
you read them all
between and behind every line
you uncover
pictures books pieces of the puzzle
secrets
skeletons
and lies
you ask questions
actually you only ask one
at a time
or maybe one a day
or week
or month
‘cause you don’t want to
wipe away her
surely-to-follow tears
you listen
she tells you everything
a burden lifted
she tells you
‘cause you asked
‘cause there is not noise in the house
‘cause it seems that you and she are
the only living things
and you hear yourself repeating
“it’s alright
everything will be alright”
you listen
she tells you everything
a burden lifted
she tells you
‘cause you asked
‘cause there is not noise in the house
‘cause it seems that you and she are
the only living things
and you hear yourself repeating
“it’s alright
everything will be alright”
you go to school
join a club
the track team
run in circles
for miles
a natural high
you are good
but you never excel
no
that would mean mommy
would have to talk to the coach
about allowing you to go out of town
to this meet or that meet
then he too might ask why
she doesn’t come to a meet
to see how wonderful you are
“you explain things so well
you have so much insight
you’re so mature
so thoughtful
so kind
so different” people tell
you thank them all
smile not too wide
‘cause even the best glue
won’t hold together
if you pull too hard
stretch emotions
too far
unknowingly
your vision becomes narrow
your horizon small
and all you remember is mommy
head bent
shoulders round
sitting in a chair
or on the side of a bed
still
alone
you remember your mother
without you
you think
without you where would she be
what would happen
so you build a wall
a very tall wall
so impregnable
so high no one is able to climb
look over
or get through
it protects you
or traps you
or traps and protects you
it’s in your face
your eyes
your mouth
your gait
yet men approach you in the streets
women approach you in the streets
then the streets approach you
you wonder how
everyone and everything know
you need so much
but you never asked for help
you are mommy’s
little helper
© B.Michael Hunter 1989
“When Mommy Breaks Down” was first published in The Road Before Us: 100 Gay Black Poets, Ed. Assoto Saint, 1991, which won a Lambda Literary Award the following year; and later in Boyhood, Growing Up Male: A Multicultural Anthology, Ed. Franklin Abbott, 1993. In a letter to Abbott, B.Michael offers some important context for his poem.
