MOTHER WAS A DRAG.

Mother was a drag,
You always said that,
She favoured your big

Brother, giving him
The breaks, letting him
Get close, but keeping

You away from her
Reach, on your case like
A two-bit lawyer,

Slapping you around,
Watching you when she
Brought new men back home,

The creeps trying it
On, favouring you
To her, and she blamed

You, sent you away,
Off to New York, out
Of her hair, out of

Her life. Some of the
Men weren’t too bad; some
You’d have bedded had

You been older or
Them younger, but you
Didn’t, although she

Thought you had and that
Was enough, that sent
Her over the edge,

Taking to the booze,
Getting through more men,
Dropping them again.

Deflowered more times
Than a rosebush in
Summer, she said of

You, that last time, she
Eaten with cancer,
The tongue still bitter,

The eyes piercing; you
Could have done better,
Mother sighed, could have

Been an angel, my
Little girl, my one
And only. Your big

Brother pushed dope and
Ended up lonely.
Mother seeped through the

Last days cursing and
Swearing like a sore
Hag. Never saw her

Again. Mother was
Always a darn drag.