Tag: Mom

Potatoes – A Quadrille

I expected to find Mom in the living room, smoking a cigarette and watching TV. Instead, she was in the kitchen peeling potatoes. I paused to watch her pull the paring knife toward her with each peel, like she’d done a thousand times before. _______________________________________...

Her Hideous Scar

Once I saw her without her shirt or bra revealing the scar where her surgeon first took her diseased breast then sloppily gathered excess skin in a quick running stitch of sutures leaving her hideously deformed It’s no wonder I seldom saw her smile _______________________ De is running the...

Twenty-Four Years – A Poem

January 3, 1988 is the day my mom died. It’s been 24 years today. At the dVerse Poets Pub today, Brian says there is a poem in everything. Perhaps there is a poem in this. Twenty-Four Years We knew it was coming the diagnosis was...