Little Wet
Mother's visiting
and I can't see my feet.
Left foot, then right.
There's juice in the fridge, she says,
If you need it.
Her sad sideways look
when she sits here visiting.
I shift in my gown,
in my hospitalChair.
Mother with her raincoat
sitting,
saying,
It's a little wet.
and I can't see my feet.
Left foot, then right.
There's juice in the fridge, she says,
If you need it.
Her sad sideways look
when she sits here visiting.
I shift in my gown,
in my hospitalChair.
Mother with her raincoat
sitting,
saying,
It's a little wet.
posted by k_sra at 10/07/2004 03:37:00 PM
3 Comments:
is it too much to pull an h+p here? ? or perhaps on all these? and yr last comment on my post for H+P was beautiful and i'm chuffed and i thank you.
No, not too much. this one written about a young friend knocked up by her boyfriend, proud to be pregnant, unruly and "independent." I made up a scenario. her mother died a few months before the baby was born and she just now left her abusive husband/father of the child. this was a longer poem. I wittled.
wow...an all to familiar story...
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