So I was pleased to find this post about linking up with a poem about mothers (L.L. Barkat offered me inspiration a few weeks back concerning fairytales so I'm happy to join the fun again).
This is supposed to be in honour of approaching mother's day (U.S.? we had ours here in the UK back in March) and incidently it is my own mother's birthday this week, but...
That life that has kept me away from here is still going strong so rather than write fresh I've pulled an old poem from my files which doesn't exactly have the celebratory tone it should. But relationships are tricky things, and often not what they should be...
Mother is due at three with her hawk-eye
Out for every stained surface, dust-darkened nook
And unshelved book.
So I scrub and scour, feeling like a woman
At the river flaying clothes against the rocks -
Disinfectant my new incense.
Duty done, my mind plays back a childhood day,
When hid in the branches of the damson
I wrote my secret journal while Mother called,
All my woes and then my dreams -
The aubergine ribbon bookmark a bloodstain
Running like a river down my thigh.