losing it

my mother

loved

liver and onions.

it was the only food we wouldn't

eat,

so she had it all

for herself.

we'd run

from the kitchen

as the liver

hit the pan, frying

in a loud sizzle.

we'd shake

our heads

and have a meeting.

what's wrong with her.

her and 

that liver?

she's losing it.

what's next, kidneys,

hearts,

brains?

she could eat us.