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Surrounded by soft morning blues and vanilla creams
upon her I gazed
a beautiful woman with one exposed breast, framed
above my parents’ bed
Jesus did not hang in our house,
though his name was never spoken in vain
Sundays were spent at the lake, not church
My dad’s “ten percent” went to gold-colored six packs
topped with pull tabs
an explosive combination with my mom’s fiery spirit
a young union that came to an abrupt end
fourteen years in
not a minute too soon
for the seventh daughter, raised on a southern farm
to find liberation
though some shackles are invisible
requiring a lifetime to chisel thin

Oil and water, she and I
however,
her strong body gave me life
and her fiery blood still fuels me
now coursing through her granddaughters,
one, my only child

Before death pulls either of us under
it is this poet’s wish
that I honor my mother’s lessons and sacrifice
as I look onto a morning that matches her eyes

Thanks for stopping by. Wishing you a pleasant weekend. Warm regards. Michele

featured photo of woman in a sheer dress taken during sunset by Zolotarevs / my Oregon flower photo

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