My Mother As An Event Horizon Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

She has been left out
of all this
I notice
The truth is
I never know where to start
She is big in my life
Like the Death Star
But then with a shrug
I say
Its like that
There is no definite edge
No beginning
No end
I do know
She could have been somebody
She could have been
a contender
You see
There was this myth
About her and Art
He bought her a paintbox
I recall
Then along came the golf bag
in the hall
What with her being French
There was that
reluctance to
embrace Bohemia
which afterall, is the gateway
to creativity,
The cliff you fall off
Before you get down
To the nitty gritty.
If you really want to know
I blame it on the war
Bit of a spacewalk really
And what with me and
My umbilical cord