Mother
This picture haunts me.
It's as if
I sealed my fate
in a moment of silliness
prompted by the photographer.
The blind date
with the man who would be your father
was that same night.
I was blind indeed. And he didn't wait
a single minute for my good sense to return.
Almost before I realized it,
I was hitched and whisked away
to that wretched farm.
His conquest
was my doomsday.
I won't try to stop you, Iva.
Neither will I come rescue you.
It is your life to waste.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016
Those last two stanzas. His conquest was my doomsday. A sock in the gut line if I ever read one.
ReplyDeleteAnd the mother sounds so, so harsh. And so unloving.
"TRAILBLAZERS"
He says we need
a photograph of us
headed west
to stake our claim and so
I plop the stetson
on top of my pompadour
slide the rifle across my knee
rest my hand on my hip
put a little swagger
into my smile
the slight gap between us?
I wonder
whether it will
widen
or
narrow
as we forge
this trail.
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2016
Every story needs a good villain, eh? Mother's been fun to write!
DeleteAnd yours -- those gaps between us that grow or shrink along the journey...big truth...
Ouch!
ReplyDelete