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A LAMENT FOR THE SAINTLY MOTHERS
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;
& 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
© E-magazine LiterNet, 09.04.2006, № 4 (77)
Kristin Dimitrova. A Visit to the Clockmaker. Cork: Southword Edition (Ireland),