March 24th, 2010

mother’s day poem

Daily
Mum and I go on walks
for exercise,

though we scarcely exert.
I give my hand
to her.

COLD HANDS, she says.
Circulation perhaps,
we say.

I WANT TO MAKE PAPER,
I say,
BUT I DON’T HAVE…

*

Later,
Dad made me a framed sieve
from wood and mesh.

Finishing up,
he said:
I’M FREEZING MY BALLS OFF.

He left to light the fire,
pour a whiskey,
and smoke.

I stayed in the garage
making paper,
heart warm.


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