Don't Go, Momma

By Richard L. Provencher

Sat, 11 Dec 2010
  • 1353 reads
4 comments
 

Watch her place an arm
reluctantly
into a coat sleeve,
chilly outside she says

we know she’ll be away all night
with the waitress job
has to do it since dad got sick,
too much booze, again.

She brings food to the table
with the paycheck arriving end
of the week

five children and a husband
depending on her.

Tears close her eyes momentarily,
have to go now, she says
kisses her little darlings then we look
at each other
me the oldest and wanting to cry
don’t go momma

but she has to and I give one
more hug.

© Richard L. Provencher

First published December 2010
Caduceus, Poets at Art Place 8
Yale University, New Haven, CT
ISBN 978-0-9752554-9-0

Certificate U
POETRY - A Passage of Motion 2
Journal

Comments

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
This is such a sad poem, sad because even today it probably rings true. Thanks for the read. Jenny.

 

Submitted by Highhat on
Yes a sad poem. ;)Pia

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Thank you, Jenny and ;)Pia. Since I am at the outer edge of my life AT 68, memories come flooding back and it is a valuable exercise to remember days when I was ten years old, the man of the house with dad still affected by the ravages of WW 11. I relish remembering because my stroke did savage some of my important memories. Yet in spite of the sadness, goodness came into my life, and I decided to work in community services in many aspects--welfare, housing, youth work and elders for 22 years. I am retired now and life is still a joy. Richard LP.
Richard L. Provencher

Submitted by Highhat on
Your comment was a joy to read Richard. I'm so glad that you shared some of your life with me (us) Thank you ;)Pia