Mother
by Jacob erin-cilberto

Mother,
you were a sonnet
in strict meter,
some beautiful imagery mixed
with comfortable notions of rhyme
because that won’t stray from the truth

maybe a little free verse child
might be rejected
and readers will sense
it was poorly raised
and should have been revised

to fit in
to the structure of what society expects

Oh, I visit your ashes in my mind
and they color my heart with gray spills
I still try to rhyme when I can to please you

I know it does …
but I am out of character
and finally start to wonder

what would Father think of this?
would he appreciate me sowing my poetic oats
in controversy?
would he say I have guts
or lack tact to please Mother?

my strange writing has no siblings
and I have to hide my pen
under my bed
a shadow in the night light.



First published in All the Poems I Never Wrote, by Praying Mantis Press, (2022)



 


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