MAMA

LillieMarie Johnson 

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Mama played Gospel until the morning turned to night and the preachers started talkin’ instead of

singing

Had me listening in the car under the guise that maybe I would feel something

And if not feel something

Maybe the songs would stay in my head just enough to learn every lyric and wrong note.

 

Mama loved Gospel so much

Mama played the station out until I was in the backseat sounding like a broken record

And after I was in the front seat sounding like a broken record

And after I was in the front seat too tired to sing it

And after I could no longer relate to the words

Mama played Gospel like it was her religion

Like she was learning a new language and Gospel was it.

 

We sang every song unconsciously

The words just coming out like vomitーthe rush

Mama is a southern Baptist with a love for cooking and singing

She hit me for every wrong lyric

“You’ve listened to this too much to be wrong. It should be in your heart by now.”

And Mama was always right.

 

Mama dressed up on Sundays

Hat and all when she wanted to be fancy

Women all lined up gossiping and singing praises that should only have been to God

But it’s a Baptist church nonetheless

Mama sang in the choir when she wasn’t helping with some program

And she dragged me up in there every time with a look that Satan would shake at

Mama sang her heart out though and she expected everyone else to as well.

 

One day Mama took out some old CDs, barely CDs actually

She wiped and blew the dust out of them and let the car play

Mama played Prince, Luther, and I felt my neck almost break with the speed of the twist

This wasn’t Gospel, but Mama was singing it like a new religion

And that day I sat back looking like a sinner in church.