Friday Poem

mother of stains

            —after Clark Coolidge

a mother made of three buttons from three different sweaters
mother of Kleenex balled into the sleeve
the mother that sews your shirt to the lamp
mother that prefers the couch
the mother that peels cheese from a log
mother that laughs behind chipped nails
mother rated “have you been looking?” on her last evaluation
mother of stains almost washing out
mother that picks you up         forgets to kiss you
mother that calls you a name no one else knows
a loud ringing from a disconnected phone
mother who still dials in every day
a mother you hated      were lucky to have
a mother with a perfect record of attendance

by William Lessard
from Plume Magazine