A Good Day — a Poem about My Mother


My mother was a beauty
and dressed it.  One Sunday
the preacher quipped,
“Even Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like one of these.”

Now she’s 76.  Thin and hairless,
she wears a cheap wig, dirty tennis shoes.
She sees poorly, drives worse.
One Monday, she hits a parked car
in the cancer patient lot. A day later,
police call.  Somebody caught
her license plate number.

I’m surprised she tells this story on herself.
It’s not her way.  Then I hear that old tone
in her voice. “The witness described me
as an attractive blond,” she says,
in her fifties.

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7 Responses to A Good Day — a Poem about My Mother

  1. Mary Hirsch says:

    Although my favorite poem, since subscribing to your Blog, is “The Poem Wants A Drink”, I adore today’s verse. I forwarded it to my daughter and received this reply: “Mom, As I read, I could not figure out WHY you sent me this depressing poem, and then I got to the last line. Laughed. SO you.”

  2. I think we’re all going to feel like that when we’re old – sounds like she’s quite a character! Great poem.

  3. Lindy Lee says:

    Whether a mother or not, every woman surely should appreciate this poem. Female vanity & youth are certainly emphasized in our culture…

  4. hahaha! so cute, so typical and so memorable.

  5. Your post is in the Good Posts Humour Gazette – (That’s me on the camel;) http://paper.li/GoodBlogPosts10/1317125039

  6. shriiram says:

    Poignant! Poetry at its best…

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