In the house of mamas

 

There are no men in the house of mamas

only boys

little ones clinging 

to their mothers' skirts the

same way I do 

carrying the same full trash bags we are

Standing in the same line to get the same shots

 

I'm scared of needles

but we're not allowed in without it

Mama has to hold me down

 

The hallways are endless 

No one looks up as we pass

 

There are children are gathered around the TV

fenced in by stacks of  VHS tapes piled high enough to

wobble when you get too close

The elder sons watch over them

 

Elder daughters are in the kitchen helping

the mamas cook

Everyone has their own food

No one has enough

They feed the children first 

 

The house of Mamas is a place of sickness

If one child is ill

So are the rest

 

The scent of vomit will never wash out of the cushions

There are bugs in the carpet

lice in our hair

Mucus in our eyes

Fevers high enough to

make our mamas cry 

 

No one goes to the doctors

No one can afford it

 

Bowls of ginger and mustard seed are passed around

Bathtubs are filled with ice

 

The sick are sprawled across the common room

We take turns laying on the couch

The rest are on the floor

Between rows of pillows and blankets

Mapped out from the strongest to the weakest

 

No one sleeps

We can hear our mamas praying

 

It isn't the first plague 

and it won't be the last

 

It's the first time I meet death

it won't be the last either

 

The house of mamas is bare and empty

Our room has one window

a small one too high up for my legs to reach 

a wire bunk bed on one side

the bathroom door on the other

We share it with our neighbors

 

There's a handprint on the mirror  

smaller than mine

 

Mama teaches me how to lean a chair against our side

There's a lock but

locks aren’t that strong, she says

 

I'm not allowed to open the door

I'm not allowed to leave the room without her

 

I get to know the neighbors

The mama in the next room has a boy

he says he's my age, but he’s far too small

I don’t think he’s lying

 

We talk through the bathroom at night

When our mamas are gone

 

My neighbor on the other side talks to me through the vent

We pass messages down the halls 

Little whispers from room to room

Sometimes it gets lost in translation but 

we try our best

 

We make plans, we sneak out for hours

To hang out with the big kids after our bedtimes

and race to jump back in our beds

before our mamas get back from work

 

We teach each other secret knocks 

ones that mean different things

 

We make our mamas birthday presents

out of cut up magazines and glitter glue

 

We take turns picking which movie to watch and

fall asleep on top of each other

some of us dangling halfway off the couch

 

We scramble to clean up our spills

so that our mamas don't have to

 

We share our plain bandaids

and trade our pretty ones

 

We have a currency 

of stickers and McDonalds toys and

stale halloween candy

We pay each other for favors

 

We use our birthday candles to wish for houses, for mansions, for castles, four walls and a roof

 

We tell each other about our papas

Most don't have one

some do, some did

 

We pick the lock to the big balcony 

to sit together at night

between strung up laundry 

and dusty brooms

we make wishes on the stars

not one wish is for us

 

We mourn the ones that leave

but we know they’re somewhere 

better

We hold each other when we 

miss being held

We wipe each others' tears

 

There are no men in the house of mamas

 

Only us

and our mamas.