Mother Tells Me

by Eileen Patterson


It’s good you didn’t stay with that man.
She raises her bones and stands before me.
He would have left you crumbled like dry
toast, he would have left you thirsty for more
years, thirsty for words of love, desire, more of everything.
It’s good you lived without passion. Soon it will be over,
and you will no longer have the burn of what may have been.
Mother lowers herself down to the casket. Her bones creak
with regret and denial.


* * * * *

Eileen Patterson lives in in Cudahy, Wisconsin. Along with fellow poets she has read her poetry at the local library. Her work has appeared in Underwood, Bombfire, Medusa’s Kitchen and Darkwinter.