This poem is based on a story my mom told me about visiting her mother in a mental institution and having her mother not recognize her and her sister and paying them no attention. They were 6 and 8 years old. I imagined it. It won an award in college.
Just after the snow,
with father they came
two small girls
in red and green velvet.
To visit Mother who
lived now
inside of stone.
She walked in white.
Look at us Papa,
our shoes they shine —
Gram polished them
for a long long time.
Inside of stone,
cough medicine smells
and more in night-halls
they would hold their breath
until the sunroom was near.
Father would tell them to wait
and they would, long minutes
many legswings on hard
straight chairs.
Until father came back, always said
“Speak softly to Mama,
speak softly.”
