RE: Mother’s Death

RE: Mother’s Death

Ah, mother, you went into
the grey mist and I did not wail.
Whatever of my tears your passing earned
had long been spent, you died, for me,
years before, your account was
in arrears, long, long bankrupt.

I let the hens cluck, mother;
I let them feed on my unfeeling.
Hypocrite, I would not be-
I left an empty space
in your macabre parade.

Cuckoo like, were you, my mother,
and I your boomerang egg.


About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
This entry was posted in One Little Kumquat, How It Grew, Personal and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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