the pillowcase

tiny safety pins

old magazines

my mother screaming

running through the house

in agony

trying to hold

her floppy twisted arm

a gift from my father

pillowcase from my pillow

third grade me

was dreaming on

now pins to it’s twin

lined with glossy stiff paper

encircling her pain

my little fingers fasten

sharp pins of safety

still a bit groggy

until I see dad

who scares me

wide awake 

who scares hurt her

both of us

saying nothing

again in the 

emergency room