Mother
Mother, you’ve been gone for twelve months
I write poems upon your desk
The house looks different, you wouldn’t like it
Now I know why you worked and worked to keep it in order
I comprehend why you polished the silver
I believe the dishes should be put up every night
I see why we shouldn’t bring food to our rooms
Mother, we miss you terribly, we love you so
I sit in the living room, I write upon your desk
The couch smells like your perfume
The pictures rest in the closet, I don’t know why
Mother, your voice rings out on the second floor
Now I know why we tidied our rooms in the mornings
I comprehend why schoolwork comes first
I find myself being just like you “pick up your clothes”,” feed the dog”
Mother, how I wish I told you I loved you more often
The house looks different, you wouldn’t like it
Now I know why you worked and worked to keep us in order
Mother, you’ve been gone for so long
I write poems upon your desk
It feels like you’re right here
06/10/2021
Written for Lipogram Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emilie Pinet
(no letter a)
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