Meeting in a Strange Place

Me and Izzy are riding

the D train when I notice my mother

huddled across the car all

dulled with winter frost

Scarified and old as dirt

Got spare change anything helps she

mumbles looking down at her feet, scratches

Her bosom absently and shakes a rusty tin can. Mama

I say all querulous and startled. I pick

up Izzy and move to the far end

Go away I spit

take your dirty shopping cart,

your filth encrusted mangeanyway

this is my stop I said secretly

thrilled by this encounter

me arrayed brightly like a flag

and she of course long dead.

About Karen To and Fro

Everything you didn't want to know about me!
This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply