Mother
Iva, I made this move
for your own good.
You will become
a proper lady.
I let Auntie down,
but you will overcome
growing up on that wretched farm.
You will rise in society
to the level you are from.
You can squirm all you want,
but I've got you firmly
under my thumb.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016
I see that desire to "rise in society", the fancy hats, a car! even? Thinking this fit so nicely with that dead coyote photo. Not many high society folks would have one of them lying on the floor! She wants to leave all that behind.
ReplyDeleteThese poems are so short, but say so much.
I want to hear more from mother. And is there a father?
ReplyDelete"Rose"
I'm a prim and proper gal
I know my place
crimping a pie crust over sweet cinnamon apples
bathing babies in the washtub on the kitchen table
sitting next to my Joe in the pew on Sunday mornings
And yet…
I don't want anyone
to think me staid or stodgy
So when Verla shows up
in front of my house
in a model T,
no, that's not right,
when Verla shows up
driving a car
and says, "Come on Rose,
we're going to lunch,"
I call to Joe
and tell her sure,
and get my hat
and my pocket book
and my white gloves
just like any proper lady would
and then I climb in
right behind Mary Katherine,
and Gloria
and even Ruth
who really is staid and stodgy
and we all pose
for a photograph
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016
I love picturing each of these ladies (you made them so individual with the names -- love Verla...I have a Verta in my past!) putting on their finest and leaving behind the housework to go (where? would a downtown hotel serve lunch? or a cafe?) out to lunch.
ReplyDeleteLove, love, love. I agree, the names are something else.
ReplyDelete