Smiling with her broken spine as
we skipped along the cracks of
suburban cement sidewalks.
Her sunlit knuckles and craters
down the sides of her hips.
“Where we once collided,”
She whispered into our three
soft rosy ears. “Took three chunks
of my flesh, bones, my eyes.”
We glued her googly eyes to
preschool posters on crispy blue
construction paper. They sung
With each of our steps. Danced
circles around our juvenile delirium.
We hung them on the fridge with
bottle cap magnets and alphabet soup.
But jam coated pinkie fingers
reaching for bottles of thick milk
knocked three spinning googly eyes
from their crispy blue construction paper.
They fell to the floorboards,
catching sight of thirty toes, dancing
to the world beyond what is known
in the craters of our mother’s hips.
One thought on “Open mic- Mother by Violet Doolittle”
I showed this poem to my mother and she teared up! I am glad you have this strong relationship with your mom. One that brings beautiful memories!