Out of Control

Out of Control

Today, my mother is scheduled to die. 
She will swallow a lethal dose of poison. 
Her begging for death, her plans and schemes,
have finally paid off.  She will join my father at last.
Before she goes, I want to race to the nursing home
to say goodbye, to say "I love you."  But the roads are snowy
and slick.  A good foot of snow, packed to ice in spots.
As I turn to the left, up a long hill, the car slides
backwards, faster and faster, slipping into the left lane.
I panic, stab wildly around with my foot, can't find the brakes.
Cars fly past on both sides.  I slide out of control,
can't even steer into my own lane.  Finally,
I find the brake, pump it enough to slow the car, and start
back up the long hill toward my mother's death.
I am afraid I'll be late.  She'll already be gone
and all my love and goodbyes will stay unspoken,
sticking in the throat of my heart like tears.

Mary Stebbins Taitt
081107-1225-1b; 081107-1st