MOTHER

If I recount every happy memory 

And compare it with the bad

They are unfairly weighted

For the bad became dark

As they festered in my brain

Somehow picking at every corner

Of something circular

Crossing its diameter and planting itself in the core.

The dark became thick smoke

And I remember how you spoke to him

As if he was a child 

As if he wasn’t who you fell in love with; 

You tore him down and treated the dog better.

Your face became distorted 

And your lips curled up

The smell of five full glasses of merlot

Dancing on your breath

I don’t want that in my house

I don’t want drugs in my house

I will not tolerate you in my house

How ironic

I elaborate on the dark

To you

In my room

As you attempt to comfort me

Salt crystallized on my cheeks

You’re not allowed to be depressed

And so I buried it inside my chest.

A mother is still a mother

Because she birthed me

But she hurt me

And a mother is still a mother.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

You tell a familiar story in your own unique way. I'm totally following this story & I love how you imbue it with all the feelings this narrator might have, trying to love & honor one's mother while also observing the stuff that doesn't make sense, or which is plain unfair. I love how you open this . . . it's human nature to remember mostly the toughest aspects of a tough childhood. I love how you observe the mom treating her man badly (so common! the women in my family emasculated their men & that's one reason I never got married -- I never wanted to be that way). I could go on & on, but your poem does that better than me, anyway! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[skin crawler]

Thank you Margie! I always look forward to your reviews. Most of my poems are based on true events that I have had in my own life. I love writing as it allows me to purge and put the anger or sadness toward something beautiful others can relate to. Cheers