WHO IS MOTHER.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A GIRL DISCOVERS HER SISTER IS HER MOTHER.

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She stood in the doorway

Of the bedroom after Dixie’d

Been out late at a party at

 

Thirteen. You know what

Time it is? Stella asked.

What’s it to you, Dixie

 

Replied, you aren’t my

Mother, you’re just my

Interfering big sister who’s

 

A pain in the butt. Stella

Stood staring, biting her

Lower lip. I care, Stella said.

 

Dixie began to undress for

Bed, wishing her sister would

Leave her be. I don’t need

 

Your care; I am ok on my own.

Go get your own kid to boss

Around. Stella sighed and came

 

Into the bedroom at closed

The door. I have, she said quietly.

Dixie looked up from undressing.

 

You? What have done it with the

Kid, hidden it away in your closet?

She sniggered and proceeded to

 

Put on her nightdress. No, Stella

Said, she’s here in the room. Dixie

Stopped and stared and looked

 

Around the room. You buried it in

The walls or under the floorboards?

Stella fidgeted and walked to the

 

Window and looked through the

Curtains at the night sky with moon

And a scattering of stars. Dixie stared

 

At Stella’s back, the way the waist

Was so narrow, the hips seemingly

Moulded by some sculptor’s hands.

 

Where is this darn kid of yours then?

Eh? In your head most like, Dixie said.

There was a moment of silence. Stillness

 

In the room. An owl hooted. A car backfired.

Someone laughed from the street. You

Are my child, Stella said. Dixie began to

 

Laugh, but the look on Stella’s face stopped

Her. A knife entered beneath the ribs it

Seemed. Downstairs the TV was playing soft.

 

Her father laughed at some TV show.

The room seemed to black out into

Emptiness. Now standing in the same

 

Room years later, Dixie, looks out of the

Window at the garden below. Her mother

Is hanging out washing, her grandmother

 

Sits staring at the morning sun from some

Small chair by the wall. Her mother has

Clothes pegs in her mouth like some tall

 

Blonde-haired bear with small fish hanging

There. Stella looks up and removes the pegs

And waves; Dixie waves back at the tall

 

Blonde-haired bear standing there with

The sunlight’s blessing around her tight

Blonde curls and the eyes lit up by the

 

Morning sun like two bright bright pearls.


Submitted: April 24, 2011

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Comments

Graeme Montrose

That was a very powerful poem, very relevant also as there are many such cases around. Sad but yet with a twinge of love and hope!

Sun, April 24th, 2011 8:38am

Author
Reply

Thank you, Graeme. I have been away a while but now I am back.

Sun, April 24th, 2011 1:50am

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