Our Mothers


Our mothers are moving into the lake
They are standing in groups
Some up to their thighs others deeper
It’s still early and the water must be cold
but our mothers are not freezing
They are vague
They belong to us
You can determine where they are
by where our heads are facing
Now they are drifting to the island
They’re wearing bathing suits
in lilac and cream
It must be they chose them together
All along we comprehend
they had a plan