My mother died in ninety-nine
over there somewhere
she is baking big round bellies of bread
doing the Lord’s laundry
holding children’s classes
crocheting another rainbow
patterned afghan
out of wisps of cotton clouds
for dead babies.
Author notes
My mother made thousands of baby afaghans. She lost her first baby, and as a child, I thought she was making blankets for her that baby and sending them to heaven because after they were done,t hey disappeared. Funny how a child's mind works.
Written November 8th, 2006
In a list
A contest entry
- Number Nine. by Lavender Butterfly.
300 points, ended March 31, 2007, 12 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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Thank you butterflydreams. I appreciate your comments and ty for HM.
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This is an extremely touching write and truly unique. Fabulous metaphors and wonderful imagery. Thanks for sharing and good luck in my contest... x Butterfly.
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OMG, awwwwww, you poor little thing. This is a new one to me....it is funny but it makes the heart hurt to think we oculd believe it of our mothers. Our poor mothers. thank you for stopping to visit and commenting.
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Yes--it is funny how a child's mind works, and I remember when my mum was having my sister, and how I thought she'd eaten my pet scottie dog because he'd been put to sleep around the same time, and my mums tummy was so huge
lovely penning in here, and beautifully crafted. Well done and good luck in the contest.
Shaz xx
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