My Mother and I-

my mother and i swim in circles of music

i think it’s the deepest language in which we know each other

she taught me how my fingers should graze across piano keys

and how my breath traveled through my body to sing sweet songs,

i learned how coarse calluses worked to bend against ringing strings

so many lessons blooming and blossoming into who i am today

she nimbly flies across black and white notes,

while i traverse the halls, a new aria humming through our walls

we listen to broadway soundtracks together as we drive,

she laughs at lyrics we’ve heard hundreds of times and i try to harmonize

she makes jokes about singers and we talk about her time in conservatories

i bother her with questions on church modes and she smiles at me

my mother and i swim in circles of friendship

i think it’s the deepest method in which we know each other

she is my first best friend, the first and longest i have ever had

she knows my fears and dreams and wishes, more than i know them myself

she knows the flicker in my eyes, the dips in my voice, more than i know them myself

so many memories blooming and blossoming into who i am today

i cannot keep secrets from her, even when i know they’re in my favor-

like the time i tore a poster from england, and she taped it back together for me

she knows the name of every friend i have ever had and their life story

every trivial moment that connects itself through me

we watch reruns of shows we’ve seen hundreds of times, staying up until midnight

she shushes me as i quote my favorite lines and make quips at characters

my mother and i swim in circles of our culture

i think it’s the deepest whisper in which we know each other

foreign tongues roll through her, like water from a ravine

i hear her speak to m