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SMITH, Tracy K.

Einstein’s Mother

Was he mute a while,

or all tears. Did he raise

his hands to his ears so

he could scream scream

scream. Did he eat only

with his fists. Did he eat

as if something inside of him

would never be fed. Did he

arch his back and hammer

his heels into the floor

the minute there was

something he sought.

And did you feel yourself

caught there, wanting

to let go, to run, to

be called back to wherever

your two tangled souls

had sprung from. Did you ever

feel as though something

were rising up inside you.

A fire-white ghost. Did you

feel pity. And for whom.