hebe kearney
loss
mum went to bed for months.
got up only for using bathroom with red toilet seat &
sitting on step outside pink back door, smoking,
saying i love you without her eyes.
moving truck got stuck
under opawa’s overbridge
& my baby brother was born
just a red mess onto a matted towel.
one of those things
no one talked about.
family came to visit.
nana picked me up from school,
aunty slept, floor of my room,
& made a sticker chart so
i could be Good.
in doorways i stood
peering around corners to see
mum’s supine form or curve
of her spine as she sat outside, puffing.
her room seemed grey
i wanted to say:
what did i do?
but more than anything
i wanted to lose my first tooth;
to have a broken grin;
to tongue empty space.
mum got better suddenly –
woke up one day
& darkness had gone away,
ran out to lawn in her underpants,
cheering & dancing.
i lost a tooth eventually
& then, oh,
so much more.
Hebe Kearney (they/them) is a poet who lives in Tāmaki Makaurau. Their work has appeared in publications including: Mantissa Poetry Review, Mayhem, samfiftyfour, Tarot, takahē, and Poetry New Zealand Yearbooks. You can find them at @he__be on Instagram.