no one knows you the way your mother does

stars are wishes made of the litter
 
of blown dandelions from the breath
of small children that take the shapes
 
of snowflakes crunched under the foot
of cosmonauts.
 
but, there are no wishes to be had. for you.
 
and what you don’t realize:
she will break her chest open for you.
 
and yet you believe you are one rib too heavy.
 
but in your chest you know.
you know mother knows best.
 
go ahead: allow the moon to take the place
of tears stuck in your throat.
 
continue to believe in hope, like a sailor,
whose greatest tragedy is having to look  
 
at what he rows away from.
 
but remember: a star’s light eventually settles
on those who lay heavy in slumber.
 
but you won’t. sleep. or. settle.
 
instead you dye your hair to become a new you.
instead you take on the hue of a distant comet
 
puzzling scientists, amateur astrologists,
your mother.
 
not knowing or caring or realizing your mother’s
heart has continuously beat. for you.