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)