Happy Mother's Day y'all. I wrote these two poems as I thought about my mom, Judy. Made for More attempts to capture a moment I shared with my her, way back in 1966. I was 6 years old. Some memories we make and keep forever. They provide an opportunity, a window to our past. My mom has been gone for over a decade, but writing this poem allowed me to look into her eyes a little deeper and have a nice visit.
Shorthand was a Longshot, is about the forgotten written language of secretaries. My mom was an expert shorthand taker. This poem looks at our missed opportunity to take over the world with a language that only women could read.....It's not too late!
Made for more
Fire and heat
turn to ash at the end of my mother’s pall mall
resting between her fingers
Effortlessly
Fingers made for cigarettes
I knew those concave places on the sides of her two fingers
Like a perfect puzzle I could rest my small finger there
Looking like a stalled shooting star
the embers lit her face
Her eyes looking way past
the broken bottle field
I sat next to her
knowing to be quiet
by the way she smoked
I learned
the inhale and exhale
The slow trail of smoke
sharing the light breeze with the rock music
echoing across South Dixie Highway to where we sat
On our warmed Florida cement stoop
but she was not there
I could tell by the way she smoked
Her long sighing exhale
clouding her view
inviting distant thoughts
blurring possibilities
She was 30 years old
Broke
with 4 kids
5 if you counted my dad
My eyes rested on hers
Trying to find her I asked
“Who is that singing Mom?”
A reluctant smile from lips made for cigarettes
“Janis Joplin” she blew
returning to our stoop
I could tell by the way she moved
circling my shoulder
inviting me closer
that her arms were made for hugging
and that she was made for more than this
Shorthand was a longshot
We had our chance
the secret language
Ours
Their small words of greed and power
in our studied lines
Woman’s work to them
the illiterate Madmen
We took their letters
processed messages
to human
then back again
to their suit type talk
Did we ever hesitate on a slope
an upward swoop
Pause at the sound of ink
and lies
A slight arch falling toward the line
a single dot above
with a swift line curl away
the same arch touches the line
The difference between
War and peace
truth revealed
Love
They didn’t know what we knew
Spiral tablet resting on cross legged mandatory spiked heel
legs encased in their panty hose
Skirt length and width prescribed
We could have done anything with those lines
We were the carriers of the code
It was a longshot
an opportunity missed