Mom at 36

While she talks on the phone,
her blue pen seems to have
a life of its own,
makes abstract flowers
& filigree
& Gordian knots
all around the list of birds seen
on her morning walk.
I watch fascinated
as I eat my allotted three
fresh peanut-butter cookies,
each bearing the print of a fork’s
uncomplicated foot.

Posted in ,

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

7 Comments


    1. Thank you. I’ve been trying to remember to add all such posts to the Memoir category, both so readers will know they’re nonfiction, and also so I can re-find them easily, perhaps someday for an actual memoir-type thing.

      Reply

  1. Actually, poems like this rekindle my faith in humanity, and the power of simple things.

    Reply

    1. I’m glad. Yesterday was Via Negativa’s birthday, which I didn’t feel like commemorating particularly — but I think that’s what got me ruminating on the past.

      Reply

    1. Thanks! It’s so interesting to think about one’s parents when they were younger than one is now (ten years younger, in this case).

      Reply

Leave a Reply