Mama's Diary, Part I
I was a “why child”
but unlike many others
didn't ask my questions
right out loud
for they never elicited satisfaction-
only bizarre grown-up reactions
discomfort shown
in odd looks or awkward glances
at each other, over shoulders
uncomfortable silences
growing colder
nervous laughter
qualmish coughing
even worse- the teasing, scoffing
or miserable mealymouthed
meaningless exchanges
in that drudging monotone
of “I'll explain later”
or “you'll understand better
once you're older-
or you're grown”
And so I dug for
the answers myself
delving in dresser drawers
combing through closets and
straining to reach the very
highest-high shelves
I wanted to know all the kinds of things
that people keep to themselves
Until one day, I finally found it
the holy grail I was searching for-
in an anemic cream-colored binding
weathered and worn
my Mama's diary of secret thoughts
from the years before
Breathless, I broke it open
impatient with worrisome wait-
wanting to savor it, to slow down, and taste it
every scandalous secret enclosed within...
so I scanned the dates before reading the entries
to find out where the story would begin
So far, so good
it was ancient to me
back before she was even married
and I couldn't wait to know the fullness
of it treasures trickling down
like a delicious waterfall
cool and refreshing
invigorating
but- Oh!
how she had let me down!
Ruining all my breathless fun
I found that my Mama
was not a very
exciting
kind of woman
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