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Sunday, December 2, 2012

Trying to Hold on to Wrath, Rose Mary Boehm

From the first money I earned
I bought my mother a fashionable
tea service. She never used
it. Said, Too good for me.

From the first money I earned after
the kids were in school
I bought myself a hand-made
ceramic set of vase and bowl
in outrageous autumn colors
inspired by art nouveau. You smiled,
looked into my eyes, picked up
the bowl and let if drop.

You never bothered to fix
the hole in the roof. In that summer
of rain the ceiling
came crushing down to
bruise me.

Today the tea service slipped
from my hands.
I remembered those bruises,
how nothing was ever fixed.

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