Here You Are Not My Mother

Mama and I uncover her old photos.
I like how they have a frame:
a thin white border
smaller than a Polaroid’s.

“May I have this one?”
She wants to know why.

Because I can tell
you’re in a hotel room,
squash yellow walls
barely lit behind you.
You’re in a hot pink
halter nightie—A-line,
white stripe empire waist.
Sideways on a rumpled bed,
one arm drapes a pear hip,
the other props you up.
I can tell you tried to stick
your knees together with sweat,
but a white triangle is peeking.
They must have been cotton.
I love your pencil-thin brows,
and your eyes lined black
staring at whoever takes the photo—
the bell hop, a 70s prog rock
drummer, a bad boy biker,
a friendless female hitchhiker
you met at the bar downstairs?

Here you smile without wrinkles.

“You were about my age.”

3 Responses to “Here You Are Not My Mother”

  1. great poems.

    It takes some sifting to find them on wordpress, but your site definitely has plenty of them!
    I like this idea of looking at photos of parents. There is something both heartwarming and sad about seeing how pretty your mother was.

    my site:

  2. bodhitsattva Says:

    Thanks so much! Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who visits my site…haha; it’s good to know there are people out there enjoying my work! I will be sure to check out your site. Would you like me to add it to my blog roll?

    • ah, just checked back here again as I was passing through – yes it would be great if you added it to my blogroll (though only if you think it’s worth it of course!)

      Will keep a look out for any additions here, but I see nothing new has gone up for a while. Hope you get some creative urges again soon 😉

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