BIOSKETCH
Kathy Anderson lives and works in South Jersey. She was awarded a fellowship from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts and admitted to The Bread Loaf Writers' Conference. Her writing has been published in The Advocate: The National Gay and Lesbian Newsmagazine, in many literary magazines, and in anthologies published by Alyson Books, Grayson Books, The Crossing Press and others. Her one-act play, "Kiss of Death, Inc.," was produced at the Brooklyn Arts Exchange in 2005.

GHOST MOTHER

She is
a wraith of a mother
a kind of mother
who slips in and out
faster than you can believe

Put your arms around her solid waist
she will be there for a second
smelling of sweat
and milk
then she will be gone

You try it
push your finger in her doughy arm
a mark will indent her skin
but she will not be there

The ghost mother
puts dinner on the table every night
but she does not stay and eat

We search for her everywhere
find only her books
and hidden scraps of paper
in the basement

My sisters and I lie in bed
holding hands
listening to her roam the house
at night
staying awake as long as we can
just in case

The trouble with a ghost mother
is that
while she isn't really quite there
she never quite goes away

You can't ever put her down
in a coffin
touch her face for the last time
shut the lid tight
and walk away

I CAN'T REMEMBER TALKING TO YOU

But I want to
I have pictures of you in my mind
your mouth moves
I can't hear you

It's like when you finally laid down
drawing away from us
you sucked all your words back
into your open mouth
and took them with you

Mother, you left us with nothing
but nerves unconnected
flapping around in our bodies

We are girls with missing parts

You can't make me
look at your name carved in stone
I said never and I meant it