I’ve Got You Under My Skin
Mother sings Cole Porter to the luminous moon, Rodgers and Hammerstein to the sunlight. Head held back, she sings, voice tinged with cigarettes.
She claims singing was the past. She gave it up to have sister Nancy and me.
Sometimes she wears a distant look, as if hoarding what-ifs in her mind. What if she didn’t have us? What if she’d left?
Shame rises, a river.
One night, when she sings, “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” Nancy and I clap. Clap with every note, with fervency.
Mother smiles, smile so vast, crooked. We clap on, not wanting to let go.
- © Yash Seyedbagheri 2020
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University's MFA program in fiction. His story, "Soon," was nominated for a Pushcart. Yash’s stories are forthcoming or have been published in Café Lit, Mad Swirl, 50 Word Stories, and Ariel Chart, among others.
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