The last time we met
my mother smiled her bright smile
not knowing my name.
I take after her.
Material girl, crazy
for God and country,
she had perfect taste.
I’d close my childish ears and
just look. Ascetic
by nature, an un-
happy self, a mommy’s boy,
I’d be a poet,
in touch with beauty
yes but not the beauty of
my will or mother’s.
Beauty is the peace
of art. Her last look looked through
the one me she knew.
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Author: Tom D'Evelyn
Tom D'Evelyn is a private editor and writing tutor in Cranston RI and, thanks to the web, across the US and in the UK. He can be reached at tom.develyn@comcast.net. D'Evelyn has a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley. Before retiring he held positions at The Christian Science Monitor, Harvard University Press, Boston University and Brown University. He ran a literary agency for ten years, publishing books by Leonard Nathan and Arthur Quinn, among others. Before moving to Portland OR he was managing editor at Single Island Press, Portsmouth NH. He blogs at http://tdevelyn.com and other sites.
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