Thinking of my Mom today, on what would have been her 102nd birthday.
Mom, Happy Birthday
Tag Archives: Mother
THE ALBUMS
THE ALBUMS
Mother’s shrinkage was marked by domicile
House, apartment, retirement and nursing home
shedding at each move, furniture, china, and art
except for, and never, the old photo albums
heavy in padded leather brown and green
Each visit when conversation stuttered to a stall
(Religion all but Baptist drowned
and what use is weather without crops)
out would come the albums
and in we all would dive
for pennies
bright and shiny at the bottom of the pool
Here’s one from 1958
how young the queen looked then
I WAS AFRAID OF THAT
I WAS AFRAID OF THAT
My mother was afraid of everything
She may have been afraid of me
even before I was born
I can almost remember
pulling knees and elbows in
so as not to cause her pain
Afraid even in the womb to whisper
anything she didn’t want to hear
That sort of thing stays with you
Perhaps I should be thankful
for the cliffs I didn’t step off of
too brave and blindly in the night
buy what about the doors
the doors I didn’t open
into rooms filled with light
QUESTIONS FOR THE NEXT SÉANCE
QUESTIONS FOR THE NEXT SÉANCE
Dearest Mother;
Sorry to disturb you
in your well deserved bliss,
but here’s a short list
of things that I forgot to ask
And if it isn’t too much trouble
I’d like the answers as detailed as possible
It will be understandable
if you can’t conjure up a voice,
but one rap for yes, and two for no,
on a floating table won’t quite do
However, if you can look up Samuel Morse,
(who may well be bored and available),
he can give you a quick-study course
and I will dust off my old Boy Scout manual
I believe “talk to me” In Morse still becomes:
-/•-/•-•/-•- -/— –/•
So, now that we’ve got the hang of it;
– What was the best day of your life
– What was your worst
– Your greatest triumph
– Your greatest disappointment
– What you are happiest that you did
– Saddest that you didn’t
Why exactly did my uncle shoot my dog
Whatever happened to my baseball
card collection, with the rookie
Mickey Mantle
and what is heaven like
MOTHER’S DAY
MOTHER’S DAY
Before Hallmark got ahold of it
Mother’s day was not
the second Sunday in May
Less commerce
but more meaning by far
in spring’s first crocus
in a jelly jar
GRAVEL LANE
GRAVEL LANE
You turn off the main road
head east over the little rise
and down the long slope
to the buildings
Crushed rock, crushed again
talking back to your tires
as eloquent as Demosthenes
spitting pebbles at the sea
On ranch-house porch
half a mile away
sight blocked by
trees and hedge
she knows which truck
who’s driving and
what kind of day
you’re having
FAMILY TREE
FAMILY TREE
My father took the roots into the ground
And the tree of my mother
began to fall
An oxygen hose tethered her some
a forest of family and friends
slowed the fall
She tore off some leaves
as she fell
NEXT
NEXT
Cindy Sheehan has spent
enough time in a tent
It is time to let her rest
other mothers can be found
Last month a hundred or more
made it through the qualifying round
THE UNVEILING
THE UNVEILING
On the first anniversary of my mother’s death
I find myself in the middle of New Mexico
the day late, and a prayer short
I stop my Catholic nun friend, now
married and converted Jewish
and tell her of my plight
Also the hope that she
or her husband might have
some words to fit the occasion
The answer is yes, the word is Kaddish
and they are meeting with the Rabbi
to arrange the Friday Shabat supper
Myself, Dorsey, Paul, Maryrita and Dan
now five, the number of her children
sit in circle in the hotel lobby
Paul is a new Rabbi and a very sweet man
he forgets some of the words, Dan helps
I say “her Hebrew isn’t that good,
I don’t think she’ll mind”
I am touched that the prayer is of praise
and not of mourning, and the idea
that whatever good I might do,
my brothers and sisters too,
are her gifts to the world
This may be a poem about salt
there is something about salt
and her gift from our eyes
as we share