My mother’s doctor tells me, here’s the deal
She has six months to live, a year at most
His words lodge in my gut, a heavy meal
My mother’s doctor tells me, here’s the deal
I’m very sorry I know how you feel
But keep your chin up, don’t give up the ghost
My mother’s doctor tells me, here’s the deal
She’s got six months to live, a year at most
*
My mother once so elegant and slim
Lies bloated, belly swollen as the moon
She mourns the days when she was young and trim
My mother once so elegant and slim
Now fluid fills her body to the brim
Which means she’s dying and she’s dying soon
My mother once so elegant and slim
Lies bloated, belly swollen as the moon
*
My father strokes my mother’s swollen hand
His broken body bent in half with grief
He stares down at his ancient wedding band
My father strokes my mother’s swollen hand
This ending is so far from what they’d planned
His face a wrinkled mask of disbelief
My father strokes my mother’s swollen hand
His broken body bent in half with grief
*
My mother always loved her tiny feet
Her toenails painted candy apple red
Smooth as marble, high-arched, and petite
My mother always loved her tiny feet
But now she hides them underneath a sheet
Two swollen loaves of yeasty unbaked bread
My mother always loved her tiny feet
Her toenails painted candy apple red
*
My mother points a finger. “Don’t you cry.
My life has been terrific until now.”
She stares at me ‘til we see eye to eye.
My mother points a finger. “Don’t you cry.
You’re making it too hard for me to die.
And that I absolutely won’t allow.”
My mother points a finger. “Don’t you cry.
My life has been terrific until now.”
*
And now my mother’s started losing weight
She hasn’t been this small in thirty years
There was a time when she’d have thought this great
And now my mother’s started losing weight
She jokes that she’ll become a fashion plate
Her humor fails to hide her growing fears
And now my mother’s started losing weight
She hasn’t been this small in many years
*
My mother won’t admit that she’s in pain
Though now and then she gives a fearful moan
Even when she’s sweating from the strain
My mother won’t admit that she’s in pain
I wonder what she thinks she has to gain
From staying strong and stoic as a stone
My mother won’t admit that she’s in pain
Though now and then she gives a fearful moan
*
My mother’s urine bag has sprung a leak
Yellow liquid puddling on the bed
The second time it’s happened in a week
My mother’s urine bag has sprung a leak
She gathers all her strength so she can speak
“We’d all be better off if I was dead.”
My mother’s urine bag has sprung a leak
Yellow liquid puddling on the bed
*
And now my mother lets her hair go gray
For forty years she’s kept it curled and dyed
I never thought I’d live to see the day
And now my mother lets her hair go gray
She asks my father what he has to say
“Now you’re sexy and you’re dignified.”
And now my mother lets her hair go gray
For forty years she’s kept it curled and dyed
*
My mother tells me where she hides her jewels
The diamonds that she wore when still a bride
I’m damned if I will cry–I know the rules
My mother tells me where she hides her jewels
A nurse comes in to ask about her stools
I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried
My mother tells me where she hides her jewels
The diamonds that she wore when still a bride
*
My mother’s best friend Pearl has fallen ill
They’ve known each other over sixty years
There is no cure, no hope, no magic pill
My mother’s best friend Pearl has fallen ill
Her heart is broken and will soon grow still
And yet my mother won’t allow her tears
My mother’s best friend Pearl has fallen ill
They’ve known each other over sixty years
*
My mother’s name is Faigl “Little Bird”
And soon she’ll spread her wings and fly away
Leaving me behind without a word
My mother’s name is Faigl “Little Bird”
Her voice the very first I ever heard
Oh how, on earth, will I survive that day?
My mother’s name is Faigl, “Little Bird”
And soon she’ll spread her wings and fly away
*
And now my father’s heart is full of hope
My mother’s had two good days in a row
He clings to her, their hands a twisted rope
And now my father’s heart is full of hope
And I, the daughter, clueless how to cope
While deep inside, my mother’s tumors grow
And now my father’s heart is full of hope
My mother’s had two good days in a row
*
At last it is my mother’s final hour
No more second chances. No reprieve.
The stench of death is bitter, sharp, and sour
At last it is my mother’s final hour
My father has lost every ounce of power
He wipes his runny nose against his sleeve
At last it is my mother’s final hour
No more second chances. No reprieve.
*
She was just here and now she’s just gone
In a New York minute I lost my mother
How can the rest of the world carry on?
She was just here and now she’s just gone
On whose loving breast will my head rest upon?
I’ll search all my life but I won’t find another
She was just here and now she’s just gone
In a New York minute I lost my mother
Lesléa Newman is the author of 65 books for readers of all ages including the poetry collections Still Life with Buddy, Nobody’s Mother, and Signs of Love. Her newest poetry collection, October Mourning: A Song for Matthew Shepard, a cycle of 68 poems that explore the impact of Matthew Shepard’s murder, received a Stonewall Honor from the American Library Association and was named a “Must Read” title by the Massachusetts Center for the Book. Ms. Newman has won many literary awards including poetry fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Massachusetts Artists Foundation; the Burning Bush Poetry Prize; and second place runner-up in the Solstice Literary Journal poetry competition. Her poetry has been published in Spoon River Poetry Review, Cimarron Review, Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art, Evergreen Chronicles, Harvard Gay and Lesbian Review, Lilith Magazine, Kalliope, The Sun, Bark Magazine, Sow’s Ear Poetry Review, Seventeen Magazine and others. Nine of her books have been Lambda Literary Award Finalists. From 2008-2010 she served as the poet laureate of Northampton, Massachusetts. Currently she is a faculty member of Spalding University’s brief-residency MFA in Writing program.
