by Caren Martineau

In the dark of the night

We visited the mariner’s home

To peek at the other side

She and I always saw the other side

It was a mother-daughter thing

A truth that stood firm

Until one March morning

When the strangers amassed

To wail and shake

A vibration 500 strong

Taking what he abandoned

Relieved and unencumbered

He boarded the bus

As if her death never occurred

While the rest of us dispersed

Like dandelion seeds

To seek comfort from others

And pretend he cared

Right up until the very end