Mommy Dearest (NaPoWriMo Day 10 – Portrait )


I’m staring into a river, reflecting.
It’s the East River come west,
And its low tide. Now is when
A city’s underbelly is exposed.
An expulsion of bowels flows,
Its pungency assaults nostrils
The same way you still hit me.

Here's another portrait of my mother one that is less succinct, more "poetic"  
for those who prefer the cushion of words

Nova Rising



4 Comments Add yours

  1. Prefer this one. Lots I wanted to say and lots I can’t articulate. Just keep writing short or long.

    1. ccthinks says:

      Thank you so much, Both! You are most kind and empathetic. I appreciate the support.

      I believe I did feel a bit exposed here. I suppose that’s why I was a bit defensive and linked to that other poem. I have written many many more… The raw sewerage I depict in this one is more impactful though. Not brimming with nostalgic turns of phrase. Shit seeks its own level. If only my relationship with my mother were as short and sweet as this – actually now it almost is, since I refuse all communication with her. She still comes around online, however. Leaving little piles of shit for me to clean up afterward.

      I guess my honesty is too jarring for some. I posted this on Facebook and the lack of response was interesting. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I don’t feel ashamed either. It is what it is, it’s also what it isn’t.
      These seven lines are probably the best thing I’ve ever written. They portray her beautifully. She is not a complicated person. She’s all limbic brain – animal pelt.

  2. C says:

    This echoes the relationship I (don’t) have with my mother. May the articulation of your truth be lifting

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