No One’s Home

Mama’s out back on the deck,

Her privacy an open field

With not a house for miles.

She strips down to her skin

And lets the rain clothe her,

Takes out her soap and

Scrubs at her shame.

I hide on the other side of the

Curtained door,

Anxious to see her return

To the house, to me.

The problem with a

Human shield is the

Vacancy they create

In their acts of pure spirit,

Like showering in a thunderstorm.