The Plate You Slid Across

You always said you'd eaten I believed you every time Mama, I found the coat you wore nine winters Hanging where you left it, thin at the wrist You called it your favorite — I know better now Your favorite was whatever we didn't miss The lamp at midnight, the needle and thread The hems let down so I'd stay warm instead Everything I never saw, I see it now The plate you slid across, the empty one you kept somehow You made hunger look like humming You made worry look like light Mama, everything I never saw I'm singing back tonight You smelled like dish soap and the morning shift Counting quarters at the kitchen drawer I thought the jar was a game we played I didn't know it was the grocery store The lamp at midnight, the list in your hand Every line crossed out was you, holding the plan Everything I never saw, I see it now The plate you slid across, the empty one you kept somehow You made hunger look like humming You made worry look like light Mama, everything I never saw I'm singing back tonight Now I pack a lunchbox of my own And I catch my hands moving like yours Skipping nothing — because you skipped it all before Everything I never saw, I see it now The plate you slid across, the empty one you kept somehow You made hunger look like humming You made worry look like light Mama, everything I never saw I'm singing back tonight You always said you'd eaten Tonight the table's full — sit down