fake your death

mothers talk, talk about anything but thier children.
anything to detract from life. life at home.
a blurry-eyed, empty insistance staring through each conversation, each pained word wishing it was somewhere else.
I wish i was somewhere else too.

Mothers talk about houses, about cars about vacations.
never talking about the husbands or children inside them.
the mother's smile ends as quickly as it came
lips from down to up, from frown to fading.

mothers spend money, the ultimate excuse.
The ultimate conversation piece.
Mothers
empty vessel or just empty.