She could never quite figure out how she felt about her.

Did she like her?

Did she just barely mildly stand her?

There was no room for indifference.

She loved her son too much for that.

But she did not know what to make of her careful smiles and thoughtful tone.

As if a tone could think.

As if a smile could spread itself with caution and calculation.

As if she were asleep in there.

Unaware.

Or rather as if she were vividly awake.

And was desperately, urgently, frantically shushing, swaying, rocking.

All the movements.

None of the soothing.

Only a woman following the rhythm.

She learned so long ago.

Hide and seek, hide and seek, can anyone see me?

Shhhhh, shhhhh…

Fragile, hungry, soft thing

Shhh, shhh, shhh

We have to be quiet now.

Be quiet.

Be quiet.

It won’t do.

Not right now.

To be so primitive.

So she held and she hushed and she shushed and she swayed and she rocked and she hummed

and she hummed

and she hummed…

That’s what it was.

A hum.

Drowning, consuming, surrounding

and in the center

a soft, swollen, tongue

meant to taste, swallow, hold space for breath,

speak.

But threatened

surrounded by teeth.

Permanent, cemented, stuck

a bitter, comforting thought.

Is it better or worse

That as much as she’d rather ignore

those teeth are only still there by luck

held by swollen gums of rot.

But still she hums and she hums…

It wouldn’t do to say too much.

That was her gut feeling.

That she was hiding something.

What, she wasn’t sure.

But she wouldn’t say a word about it until she could find what she was looking for.

A sign, a moment, something she’d be unable to deny.

A certain proof that would finally tell her how it was she really felt.