Good mothers should get to decide
which memories their children hold onto
as if sorting through an enormous file cabinet
discarding that unfortunate dinner hour
keeping that rainy afternoon with cookies
Wait! That’s horrifying, you say
all you children of mothers
Who wants her poking around your mind?
Well, calm down. Only good mothers
get this option and who gets to decide
if they are good or not? Right. That’s us, sorted.
So then—easy fix. If none of us say
our mother was a good mother
then we’ve locked them out.
Oh. wait. There she is already
and always was–since before
you were born and there she’ll be–
rattling around at odd, inconvenient
moments as if our minds were mansions
and she can walk through all the rooms
examining the furnishings–picking things up
and setting them down again
forever
Puff Of Smoke Poems 