WATERMARK

. . . might as well go out with a bang. 

 

Mother

  “I could have just put you

    in an orphanage.”

 

I should be grateful

you cut me only

with your tongue,

so many implements

available: sharpened

kitchen knives, razors,

scissors, all the tools

of your meticulous

grooming.

 

I should be grateful

you worked all week,

month after month,

to keep us housed

and fed, off to the bus

in your good suits,

matching bags & heels,

year after year,

training one young man

after another, to supervise

you.

 

I should be grateful

you taught us manners

necessary for advancement:

yes ma'am & no sir; which

fork to pick up when; he

walks the curbside, pulls

out her chair; she looks

pretty & poised, smiles,

keeps her knees

together.

 

I should be grateful

you left him even though

you say you didn’t know

about his visits to my room;

left him because of the bottle,

the women, the lies,

the demand that you, wife

& mother, get a job.

 

I should be grateful

for being expected to assist

at this annual family

meal; that I know how

to fold the linen napkins,

to lay the silver, its purpose

and its place; that I know

to offer only small rebellions

for your correction: slacks

at a formal dinner, hair

long and loose.

 

I should be grateful

that you allow us in

to your immaculate house;

that I can shield a grandchild

from your vigilant eye.

Grateful that we all sit

at this walnut table,

this smooth white cloth,

this gleaming gold-

rimmed china.

 

Grateful that we can insist

you sit with us, permit us

to carry the platters, pour

the sparkling cider, to serve you

this one time each long year.

 

—

sharon brogan

october 02015

 

 

A man asked me after a reading how long it had taken me to write this poem. I said, well, I'm 67, so – sixty years. 

 

#poem