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.