Benjamin Sleeping

Long ago, his body
slid out of mine.
Now he sleeps in fetal pose,
fists joined in prayer.

             Long ago,
but it was yesterday.
No, a winter has passed.
Two. My mother’s turning sixty.
My boy calls me mama.

Soon his body
will fill the doorway,
long arms dripping roses,
and I will walk into the dark
looking for my mother.