Performance

My mother needed a new heart but

believed it could wait.

After all, it was my first dance recital

and I dreamed of my own spotlight.

Dressed up in shiny sequins, I imagined I would sashay

across the stage, shining grin

wave wildly to my mom in the front row

who would feel too proud to be sick.

My mother sent out the invitations as if it were

our wedding, asked for RSVPs by mail.

My grandmother came that day,

the one who later brought me to her house

fed me Wheaties and asked me to finish every speck

so I would stay big and strong even if

my mother did not.

In the end, my mother failed.

wrote the wrong time down by two hours so when we arrived,

my spotlight had already been

turned out. We have the photos,

my mother and I

stand with mascara rivers running through our

frozen smiles. We were experts in make-believe

almost convinced of our own

happy ending.