My Mother Came Home Today

My mother came home today.

Her journey was anything but easy,

Anything but happy,

Her body, anything but healthy,

And I longed to cradle her

As I believe she must have

Done to me

At some time in our lives.

 

My mother came home today.

Asleep in a refrigerator cold cradle,

No ruffled pillow for her head,

No hand-knitted baby blanket

To warm her bones,

The only rattling

The rocking back and forth

Of a brittle body.

 

My mother came home today.

She sits silently at her antique desk

And counts the green and yellow feathers

She saved

From each in a long line of parakeets

All named “Beauty.”

One feather falls behind the oak

Drop leaf desk,

But I haven’t the heart

To pick it up and put it

Where it will be

Out of sight.

 

My mother is home with me now.

She straightens the burgundy taffeta skirt

Of the antique boudoir doll

We called “Miss Kitty”

Because of the same black beauty mark

On her and Amanda Blake.

Our hands stumble silently into one another

And my eyes begin to blur.

 

My mother is home with me now.

She stands silently beside me in the kitchen

Inhaling the savory smells of freshly made

Spaghetti sauce;

Her famous spaghetti sauce,

With the “secret” ingredient, cinnamon.

At night, she tiptoes into my room

And kisses me goodnight.

 

Winning submission: Rhode Island State Poet 1992

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s