A Poem for My Mother

July 11, 2006

My mother is turning 50 this Saturday. When I asked her what she wanted she said “A Poem.”
“what kind of poem?”
“It doesn’t matter as long as its just for me.”
It turns out that she’s commissioned poems, I think, from each of her six children. My younger sister, the budding designer of the lot, has offered to compile and bind them so I need to email her a text in the next day or two. I haven’t got anything. I move through my days now scrutinizing every thing I see with the single question in mind: “is this the poem for my mother?” Crudely enough, everywhere I meander only leads me back to myself and not to her. I asked a poet friend of mine for help but she said she didn’t know much about writing occasional poetry. It’s not exactly occasional only that there happens to be an occasion. A poem that is just for her. Do I write about a memory or something she likes or her future or the beauty of a gum wrapper or how I’d have been dead long ago if not for her? Is this a time to be biblical or clever? None of this seems right.

The closest I’ve come tonight have been my friend David’s impossibly beautiful water color and ink rose petal drawings on stained tea bags and a recipe for cherry brandy in a magazine

Help me write a poem for my mother…


One Response to “A Poem for My Mother”

  1. Scooter McGoo said

    the question is: what would your mother say?

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