the last warm tab

Juan Pablo Mobili

Featured image: Popped light © A. Anupama 2017

“My mom was laying in bed drinking a warm tab and having a cigarette before the day even started.”                            

—Sarah Woolley McMullin



she’d lie in her bed drinking the last warm tab
before the dark turned into day and the fifties hit her like hail

she was born in a place her soul was never from
belly & root light years apart

having the appropriate papers but feeling a fraud
the car keys and small framed pictures of the kids

the only familiar skyline atop the dresser
how can we say anything’s a surprise

when every day we crawl out of the same crater
the same prayer struggling through our lips?

let me face you world after the last warm tab
and one smoke please before the children start jumping