She is in the kitchen
making dinner when I come home
she turns
and in her face I see the pain
for just a moment
when she greets me
She knows I keep her away
and now that I know
that a baby
my father’s baby
is growing inside of her
I have hardly spoken to her

She wipes her hands on a dishtowel
“Hey Luce.” she smiles sadly

“Hey.” I say back.

I pass by and she says,
“I’m sorry.”

I feel justified and condemned.
Her joy is my sorrow
facing the truth
that Gabby is not some “other woman”
my mother is not living in some
house by herself
the victim of a terrible divorce
or anything at all.
She is gone
She has not been betrayed.

So why does it still hurt?