DEAR MOTHER

above

 

if you could see

me dear mother

in your bitterness

 

my clothes

 

if you could see

my poverty

 

if we could meet

dear mother

 

and soon

 

and you’d time

my mother

in bitterness

to listen

 

in sickness, and

set

 

down your cigarette

 

listen

 

we’d fix

which didn’t

respire

in lifetime, my

mother

of smoke

 

oh my mother, might

lie

in soft ashes

and warm, softly

talking

and talking

 

Dear mother

blind

to my poverty

be

 

as one moth-

er

unborn

 

together

 

and wealthy again

                                                                       

From Mavor’s Bones: A Gothic Novel-in-Poems.

 

 

Advertisements