I’m Not Your Mother’s Friend - Poem by Renee Marie
“It’s an abomination and you
haven’t even known her long enough to say
I love you! ”
I won’t tell her about the way I fall
in love with her
over and over
a cup of tea
or our peanut butter picnics.
I won’t tell her about the bottles of
Turning Leaf, Chardonnay
wine glasses wobbling silly
at the grassy edge
of scenic overlooks
near West Point where we giggled at
my first salute and while
our glistening eyes chase dragonflies or the
giving-in and curling-up and feeling twenty-four
instead of forty-two.
And I won’t tell her about sparklers
on the deck with autumn moon nectar trickling down
our chilly throats or how she likes
cool lips -
these cool lips -
just after feeling breathless at the touch
of feathers ‘cross her belly.
No, I won’t tell her how much
I desire her mother in countless,
simple ways, ‘cause I'd
say it all wrong,
tripping over my love-sick self
in the presence of her calculated criticism
and perhaps reduce this jingle-bell joy
to an endless defensive discourse which a
fearful Daughter needs
I loved you!
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