My gone mother on Mars

My gone mother on Mars
Searching for signs of life
Searching for her lungs

She has 1950s curlers in her hair
Smoking 2-3 cigarettes

Mom is right and she is wrong
Lonely in her skin

She dances on her peg leg
Spins on the never-healing stump

Her arm rises in the air
It's just my funny brain tumor
She says

In a crater she finds remnants of Yiddish
Fragments of a Russian lullaby

Her hands are bigger than mine
Knuckles knobbier

She visits me in Mexico, in Cuba

To keep me from floating away
She holds my foot

Martian booby traps everywhere

She has only six months to live

How will she survive her life
On the Red White and Blue Planet?

                                         -- New York, March 28, 2011


Sylvia said...

I love this poem about Sylvia! In fact I love the three new poems you have posted, all written this year. Bravo!

Margaret said...

Hmmm... something happened. I did not mean to post my previous comment as Sylvia. I am Margaret.