#8
o mama mama
why did you put your nylons on
in front of me?your legs moved
slowly seductively indifferentlyall them cool and casual things
that throw the fishhook into flesh
announcing:“i dare you little puppet
not to fuck your balls off
the rest of your life
looking for mego then among those sodoms
& gomorrahs
those concrete deserts dying
those tawdry towers crumbling
and when you find
what you’re looking for
think of me”my mama had great strong hands
— stronger than mine —
from twisting jar lids most of her life
while canning
peaches pickles sauerkraut peas
the pressure cooker listed from its
cargo of jam
biscuits grew like mushrooms
in the ovenmy mama had pride
she recovered completely after
a stroke
refusing to listen to those scalliwags
with their black bags and engraved
diplomas
who said she’d never walk againshe twisted their words into lies
with a flick of her wrists
and flipped their wheelchairs
over the backyard fenceo mama mama
your stubborn pride
runs through my veins
like a bicycle chainhad you the grip on love
you had on jar lidsi would have dwelled in alfalfa fields
foreverinstead of sitting alone
in new york
wondering what i’m looking for