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"Parents"
When our parents met,
my mother wouldn't sit still;
Cutting vegetables,
pruning your tomato plants,
washing down the deck chairs
with a cloth.
Your mother
would turn up the heat
under the potatoes.
My mother,
in her pacing,
would wander by
and unwittingly turn it down.
In the living room,
my father and your step-dad
talk about running marathons.
[first published in New Bard Press, Drive, 2004]
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An Alchemy of Words
PoetryA collection of my poems, both old and new. Notable Rankings: 1 in #poetsofwattpad (2021-06-01) 1 in #poetryclub (2021-06-01) 1 in #poetrycommunity (2021-06-18) 1 in #slampoetry (2022-04-13) 1 in #wattpadpoets (2022-04-13) 1 in #wattpadpoet (2022-04...
