by Willow Rose

I am sorry, mama,
if your blood pressure’s up
and the bills are due;
That seventy-five dollar perm
screwed your hair up–
Oh Mama, My Mommy!
I’m so sad for you!

Your masseuse has raised his fees
and the mirror won’t hide the fact,
your still gaining, mama,
aging and gaining,
your new make-up
can’t hide that.

I’m so sorry mama
that I’m feeling this pain;
disturbing your life so thoughtlessly
once again…I heap “I love yous,” on you
only needing to be told,
“I love you too and it will be all right…”
yeah mom, I know.
You’re tired tonight.

But I need you, damn it!
Just to touch me!
Why do you always draw away
when I need you most of all?

I am sorry, mama,
just when you thought
me firmly ensconced
in the gut of my insipid life,
I vomited myself out.
I am spent from retching,
only needing touching;
And you hate me for disturbing
that calm, clear surface;
the thinly covered depths of lies
and loneliness.
I want to tell you this.
But I know you only want me to go away.

The halcyon days of summer are past,
cold, cruel winter waits to pick bones bare.
I can’t afford a coat, it’s no affront to you, mama,
“You’re the only one I don’t worry about,” you said;
How inconsiderate of me to rearrange my life,
just when you were finally so pleased.

I am sorry, mama,
if I stand on your doorstep,
frozen stiff, solid cold;
The sun rises warm and melting,
leaving me thawing on your new rug,
leaving drops and spots.
Don’t worry, mama, it’s not ruined-
Your daughter is sure to melt and dry
very soon.
Things will probably be good as new
and won’t hamper your date at noon.

©Willow Rose 2012

2 thoughts on “Mama by Willow Rose

  1. In whatever way you may phrase it, you can’t hide the intense love for mom.She is always the last refuge.Mom is the best poem written by God! And now you have written a great homage.

  2. Willow – Holy Mackerel! This is both an obvious and angry statement but also a brilliant metaphor! The internal conversation that in reality turns out different. The expectations of a new day that slips past our agenda. The unrequited love and attention of someone we are vested in. I wept as I read and felt every syllable in your writing. I cannot tell you how deeply I felt this. Bravo and brilliant!

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