Picturing My Mother

You ask me what she looked like?
My collage, taken
from old photographs,
catches high cheek bones,
pretty hands, unquestioned cigarette.

My direct recollection? Little more
than a grey-blue haze of gentleness,
but for the ever-open button. No hint
of provocation just ease
of access to her slipping straps.

Joan Waddleton

Published in Seam 2002

No comments:

Post a Comment