Jeff Connelly | + Follow Poet |
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A Day At Mother's

dear read...    stop
that's almost    a
palindrome    start     
    ...er my
father called 
            my mother
                   mother but i
 called my mother Mum
  also this is not a poem
              for mother's day but 
though written on
                     mother's day
please
 read the title as intended
simply to be a memory of
                  being at my
                                   Mum's
house one day when i was
  thirty one years 
            of age                 but
  this           
      is                       
                                      what
                                        was
going through my head
knowing that someday
i would write it down

i was in the
kitchen sauteing
onions in butter and
Mum was in a back room
in the back of her house when
from the stove suddenly a splatter

of butter now
turned to ghee
but still with the
fat floating on top
spat up and on to my
arm stopping all thoughts

as mentioned
above as well
as the wooden
spoon i was using
to saute the onions
in the butter now ghee

i caught myself but not
catching myself in time
also dropping the F bomb
in fact dropping the whole
nine yards when suddenly
the stampeding sound of

a single animal entered my
ears as suddenly as did my 
Mum and she slapped me
in the face and said, "Don't 
you ever use that kind of
language in this house ever

again!!!"           and that slap
took my 31 and turned me
to 13 once again back to
when i was a boy in the
kitchen cooking and said,
"Yes Mum."

Copyright © Jeff Connelly | Year Posted 2019

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