Hibernation Prayer

You always cry the same way.
Just on the edge of hearing,
a lotus flute, low reed sound
to stop dead my twitching pen.
Like prey, I look up to pray,
to hope it was those damn pipes
who mimic you in torture.
You always cry just beyond
hoping someone will hear you
like I used to, step inside
and join your bed, ignoring
my own ducts - I am a boy,
we cry only from anger.
Now, when I first hear you cry,
the walls come down to forget;
the threats to "just die then, since
you don't want me here anyway."
I don't want my mum to die
until she cries, and I shut off
and hope to god it ends soon.