Mom looks straight at me
through too-big glasses,
hands a blur like birds in flight.
She’s Chattanooga Choo-Choo-ing
throughout the house to get me
off her back, prove she can still move,
if she feels like moving.
I grew up watching her dance
across the slick linoleum
of our kitchen floor
to In the Mood and other tunes
from her teens and World War II.
I try to catch her dance
on video, but my phone is new
and I don’t know much about
the camera. What I am left with
is this awkward still shot,
snapped the moment she orders
put down that cell phone, Junie,
and watch me dance!
From Gravity: New & Selected Poems (Tebot Bach, 2018).
Used here with permission.
Donna Hilbert writes and teaches private workshops from her home in Long Beach, California. A monthly contributor to the online poetry journal Verse-Virtual, her work is widely published in multiple languages and she is featured in the documentary, “Grief Becomes Me: A Love Story.” Donna's most recent collection is Gravity: New & Selected Poems, from Tebot Bach, and she has several poems in The Widow’s Handbook (Kent State University Press). Learn more about her at www.donnahilbert.com.
Great portrayal of the mother in this poem!
Posted 05/11/2019 10:46 PM
Mom's advice is spot on!
Posted 05/11/2019 02:45 PM
I'm not one for clich?s, Donna, but all of this suggests that the "more things change, the more they stay the same!"
Thank you for adding a cup of joy to begin my day.
Posted 05/11/2019 07:50 AM