“Blessed me!” she cries, “Aren’t you fine.”
Piling my cheeks into her palms and
Circling like a vulture; pick-a-little-talk-a-lot,
That’s her, rolling about the living room
Like a bulldozer squeezing everyone
With a voice so booming it pancakes all
Her bustling about;
Hopping out of chairs and insisting,
Leading hosts here and there,
This and that,
Acquiescing with a hand wave and
Bade I come a little closer so she can have
Another look at me.

Voluptuous as a sea,
Bubbling over and spilling into places she
Has no business being,
Holding tight and not letting go,
Throwing quilts upon backs and making
It all feel like home;
Gone one minute then everywhere the next;
Smashing piano keys and crowing,
Clicking glasses against anyone who has something
To click;
Taking over Mama’s sink and escorting her out
Harping, “Leave this to me!”

Kind as a peach.
A hug like rosy blossom and warmth
Like a fire in the hearth, shedding light;
Everybody’s wife, everybody’s sagacious
Friend, knowing how to mend all hurts
And sins.
Causing problems, and forgiving them.
Making a ruckus,
Calming it all down.
Taking me outside in the early morn and
Showing me the sunrise.

“Now isn’t that pretty.” she says.

© Copyright A. Marie Kaluza 2015

This poem is featured in The Red Robe – you can get this poem and others online here for the price of only $4.99

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