Interviewing My Mother (Draft Five)

(The formatting is weird here)


Memories fade just like scars
that decorate the skin
At first they are red and ugly
but over time they lose their venom
and change into a thin, white line
And when people ask where you got
Such a testament of strength
You can hardly remember

The same can be said for remembering
Someone that you loved
Someone you still love
Even when you can't remember
Just what their voice soundED like
Or what color they wore the most

The little things you took knowing for granted
The little things that are easy to forget
Even when they made up your mother
You still forget them

When asking my family for memories
Their answers do surprise you
For a lot of their answers are the same
It is funny what people do remember
Once a person is gone

My cousin, Jenny, fondly recalls
Growing up with my mother
Remembering all the good times they had
and the bad

When I asked her what her favorite was
she spoke of having her surgery
“I remember the doctor asking
just who ‘Bonnie’ was
I had no idea why he asking
but all I had been saying while I going under was
“Don’t leave me and don’t let go of my hand”
When I woke up, nobody was there
but my hand had been closed
As if I had been holding someone’s hand
only your mom was no longer there
she couldn't have been. “

My Uncle John thought of the times spent together
relaxing on the farm, sitting around the bonfire
The sounds of animals piercing the night
My mother's other children
and his nieces and nephews
They would ride the quads during the day
and put on a haunted hayride at night
All the neighbors would come and join in
It was a fun time for all

I could have asked my mother a lot
Asked about her favorite memories
Or how she felt as she brought life into the world
Not only for me and my siblings
but for the horse that was born on our farm
the one whose placenta sack she helped remove
or all of the animals she gave a second chance to
giving them a place to be fed and loved
After hearing from so many others
It was finally her time to speak

“What was it like dying?

My mother paused in thought
before finally speaking:
“Radiation turned my skin red,
my beautiful hair, my source of pride,
came out, falling onto my pillow
as if my body itself, were weeping
Your aunt came over that day
shaving my head, removing my crown
My goddess-like qualities
became mortal, after all

But I had a smile on my face,
when you got home from school that day
My new crown of glory rested on my head,
A new testament to our own mortality
It was an unexpected surprise that
wasn’t unexpected at all

There were five of your - three of blood, two of love
my beautiful children
You were only newly ripped from the womb when,
you learned the lesson of death
A lesson I taught you

But my life has meaning, how could it not?
I had all I wanted in life
My dreams fulfilled, my lover, my kin
And most importantly of all
I had you

It just wasn’t enough to live for

But once you got right down to it
Dying wasn’t so bad - once you got past the grief
My body, it ached. Walking became difficult
Your grandmother, who was aged herself
Became my crutch, carrying me, leading me
even to the bathroom
A simple task, I could no longer do

How could I fight it any longer? My brain deteriorated
fleeting memories of better times
tormenting my body
“Go wash, you’re dirty” I’d say
though you had just showered
Words I did not mean
A world I no longer comprehended
Oh my body….how heavy it felt
Even after losing my breast
my body hung like stone

But we still had fun

Your grandmother would stand beside me
inappropriately grabbing my breast
the one that was no longer there
but we laughed and laughed
for it was funny and naughty
and if we couldn’t poke fun at the situation
I’d be dying in a different way

For two years I fought,
and then I was cleared
My body was healing
I could finally move on
I made jokes, I lightened the mood
I talked about how my new breasts
would be bigger than yours
but it wasn’t in the cards
not for you
and not for me

How could I go through it again?
I would have been on chemo for life
and radiation for sure

A red, shell of a person
but I didn’t have it in me, not this time
It was just too much

I withered away before your eyes
A rose fighting for life
in the clutches of winter

I wish i could say I had a glorious end
One filled with trumpets and singers
A real menagerie, but it wasn’t
It was in the living room
Surrounded by family, yet confined to my bed
It was where you found out what it truly felt
to die”

Interviewing My Mother (Draft Four)

It is easy to get caught-up in life

Easy to look up at the sky

and forget to count the stars

Instead letting them rotate around you

Leaving their mark in the sky

While you head inside

because it's too cold

It is easy to forget the little things in life

Like asking how someone's day was

and genuinely caring about the answer

it's easy to take what you have for granted

It’s easy to forget

Forget the loved ones who no longer

walk the Earth around you

To keep myself from doing so

I realized it was finally time

to ask questions questions again

"What was my mom like before?"

My Uncle John, he would look down and smile

thinking of better times when

He's be over with my Aunt Kacie

Riding around on our quads in the backyard

my mom on hers and he on my step-dads

Our frontyard was large enough

We had fifteen acres of farmland

His sister's dream come true

They'd stay out late by the bonfire

Listening to the knickering of horses

The baying of the goats

The fluttering of the chickens

All my mother's children

And his nieces and nephews

A lot of memories are the same

Remembering my mom when she was happy and well

Remembering the bonfires, the quads

the horses and crazy times

like the time when my cousins went somewhere

they should not have been

my mom driving out there with my aunt

finding my cousins and yelling at them for being reckless

while my one cousin’s mother pulled them into the car

they learned their lesson that night

they were not happy at the time

but they can recount the event today

laughing at the memory

because they knew they were in the wrong

Asking my Aunt Kacie what her favorite memory was

Was asking a lot

She was a newer addition to a family

being engaged to my Uncle John

but she had become good friends with my mother

creating memories over the years

How could she pick one?

When they were all so great?

"There was that one time

when your Aunt Chrissy was having her bridal shower

it was boring and filled with kids

so we ditched it and went out bar-hopping instead.

Your mother was a fierce soul. She packed fury behind her punch.

She was a mother cub in every sense of the word

One wrong word about you or anyone in the family

and someone earned themselves two black eyes

but she would do anything for anyone

even if she cared not for them

stereotypical to say, but it was true. I went with her

quite a few times. Driving two plus hours

to help rescue animals from a shelter. Your mother was an animal-lover

always filling the house with new furry friends.

Crying whenever she went inside the shelter

seeing how badly treated the animals were.

If she had had the room, you would have had a whole zoo

staying at your place. It breaks my heart knowing

she'll never have a chance to fight your Aunt Chrissy

for a chance to watch your cousin Jace”

My cousin, Jenny, fondly recalls

Growing up with my mother

Remembering all the good times they had

and the bad

“I remember the doctor asking

after my surgery just who ‘Bonnie’ was

All I had been saying while going under was

“Don’t leave me and don’t let go of my hand”

When I woke up, nobody was there

but my hand had been closed

as if I had been holding someone’s hand

only your mom was no longer there

she couldn’t have been. “

I could have asked my mother a lot

Asked about her favorite memories

Asked about how she felt, bringing life into the world

Not only for me and my siblings

but for the horse that was born on our farm

the one whose placenta sack she helped remove

or all of the animals she gave a second chance to

giving them a place to be fed and loved

After hearing from so many others

It was finally her time to speak

and my time to ask her

“What was it like dying?

My mother paused in thought

before finally speaking:

“Radiation turned my skin red,

my beautiful hair, my source of pride,

came out, falling onto my pillow

as if my body itself, were weeping

Your aunt came over that day

shaving my head, removing my crown

My goddess-like qualities

became mortal, after all

But I had a smile on my face,

when you got home from school that day

My new crown of glory rested on my head,

A new testament to our own mortality

It was an unexpected surprise that

wasn’t unexpected at all

There were five of your - three of blood, two of love

my beautiful children

You were only newly ripped from the womb when,

you learned the lesson of death

A lesson I taught you

But my life has meaning, how could it not?

I had all I wanted in life

My dreams fulfilled, my lover, my kin

And most importantly of all

I had you

It just wasn’t enough to live for

But once you got right down to it

Dying wasn’t so bad - once you got past the grief

My body, it ached. Walking became difficult

Your grandmother, who was aged herself

Became my crutch, carrying me, leading me

to the bathroom

A simple task, I could no longer do

How could I fight it any longer? My brain deteriorated

fleeting memories of better times

tormenting my body

“Go wash, you’re dirty” I’d say

though you had just showered

I did not mean to say it

but I said it anyway

Oh my body….how heavy it felt

Even after losing my breast

my body hung like stone

But we still had fun

Your grandmother would stand beside me

inappropriately grabbing my breast

the one that was no longer there

but we laughed and laughed

for it was funny and naughty

and if we couldn’t poke fun at the situation

I’d be dying in a different way

For two years I fought,

and then I was cleared

My body was healing

I could finally move on

I made jokes after it all

talking about how my new breasts

would be bigger than yours

but it wasn’t in the cards

not for you

and not for me

How could I fight any longer?

I would have been on chemo for life

and radiation for sure

A red, shell of a person is what I would have been

but I didn’t have it in me, not this time

It was just too much

I withered away before your eyes

A rose fighting for life

in the clutches of winter

i wish i could say I had a glorious end

One filled with trumpets and singers

A real menagerie, but it wasn’t

It was in the living room

Surrounded by family, yet confined to my bed

It was where you found out what it truly felt

to die”

Divvy Q

Divvy Q

dx/dt and dy/dt - partners in crimes against humanity

two coupled equations, that just might be decoupled -

whether partially or completely -  equations who beg the question of

their existence, wondering if there is one solution

or three? Will one line answer everything, or will it take

pages and pages of scratch-outs and screw-ups to determine

where at least one equilibrium point lies hidden in the numbers

and variables looking back at us. It’s common to cross your fingers

and hope it isn’t complex. Hope that you won’t have to separate

the imaginary from the real and instead be faced with two

beautiful, real and distinct eigenvalues that have the solution

to all your problems in life. You hope for a problem where you don’t

have to guess - or second guess or even third guess a solution to,

because in the end, it’s very easy to be wrong.

Phase lines on a portrait can tell their own story -

without the numbers. It’s easy to see where a sink lies.

Where everything gets sucked in - sometimes in a counterclockwise spiral

It is not like a saddle, where things go in and things go out, but even if

all the points end up in one place, at least it is constant.