dust & anger

this isn’t why my mother had me
rooms of dust & anger
but maybe my father did—
had me like you’ve been had
he was funny that way (ha comma ha)
whereas my mother
(the Casserole Goddess)
had me in innocence
raising me first with patience
then disappointment then
epiphany as the neighbourhood swayed
my father smoked
& the gallant automobiles of the sixties
slept at the curb &
much later when we spread her ashes
(always stand up wind when spreading your mother’s ashes)
watching what was left of me
she grinned in the trees

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s