Jane Hillson Aiello
Now and Then
My friend’s mother does not know it is Friday
Her heart beats strong
But her mind is frail, fragile
Her aging body has outlasted her senses
My own mother no longer breathes
Her heart gave out
But her mind was quick, quirky
Her ailing body betrayed her, senselessly
My friend’s mother is difficult
He implores her to remember
Patience is thin and taut
My own mother is naught
I ache to be short with her
Scold her with pleasure
My friend’s mother wants to die
She languishes because he
Has not released her
My own mother is cold in the earth
Shovels full of dirt delivered
Hard sad noises upon her pine box
No comments:
Post a Comment