A LAMENT FOR THE SAINTLY MOTHERS

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I hate poets who go into raptures
because their mothers have turned
into worn-out madonnas.
Drudgery at home, drudgery in the fields,
& a rhyming son comes home,
drinks with friends,
gets a clean shirt
(in case, around the corner,
he meets death;
or possibly
someone better-looking)
& then he goes out again, heart full of pity
for his mother's sorry look.
People who have turned
their mothers into saints
have no excuse.

At least I don't see any.

© Kristin Dimitrova
© Gregory O'Donoghue, translated
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© E-magazine LiterNet, 09.04.2006, № 4 (77)

Other publications:
Kristin Dimitrova. A Visit to the Clockmaker. Cork: Southword Edition (Ireland), 2005.