Tuesday, January 24, 2012

My Ma

The picture doesn't do her justice, don't think, but today would have been my Ma's
91st birthday. The day before Burns'.

My Mother’s Dictionary

The pages curl back from arcane
all the way to chabazite
and a paper black with anagrams,
epsils, sepisle, sleep is, sleep is.
Some words are marked.
Otherness in bold red pen, tutelage.
Near Spring, there’s a parchment of a leaf.
In the margin by violin,
the name O’ Brien,
mysteriously underlined.
Fanning the pages is to breathe her in,
to the point you can imagine her, witchcraft,
by that roaring fire again, smoke curling,
words circling her legs like cats.


mapstew said...


Happy Burns' night! :)

hope said...

Ironic that a dictionary also brings visions of my Mom, who's favorite reply was, "Go look it up!"

Happy Burns' night to you and yours!