Jody Nash

May Day

May Day in Oakland the freeway fell,
Consumed by fire about the time
My father, my sister, and I
Waited on the platform for a train,
The air infused with fresh bread
A brief rain pushed the morning glories
Out of their shells and rushed the amaryllis
Into bloom: Ruby red twins, about the time
The blood slowed in my mother’s ripe heart
We nursed hopes for her recovery, texting
Back and forth and chatting mobile to mobile
Pale and wide-eyed, mother laughed and then cried,
“Take me home!” in her hospital gown,
Wearing the wire necklace holding
The telemetry box like a badge of honor:
I was once removed, having stayed in the North
Distracted from living at the border for so long,
Straddling two directions: and in her absence
My grip spontaneously relaxed, and I fell
Like the freeway, onto solid earth and rested there
With you, in sight of both worlds, for the longest time