What A Mother? Poem by Greg Costello

She became a mother at twelve,
Compelled to fill
A maternal void,
Born of her own mother's
Laziness and neglect;
Her childhood ended.
There were other reasons too
For this hard-pressed schoolgirl
To dislike her mother;
A penchant for male company,
A gluttonous tendency
Toward whiskey, and an
Inability to challenge a
Stroppy, foul-mouthed, younger sister.

Her father by all accounts,
Was a soft, affable man,
Himself no stranger to
The after work snug and high stool.
With him she shared
A warm, mutual and
Everlasting love.
She would starch his shirts
And treat his hair,
Run errands to the shops
For his smokes, and
Collect his cobbled shoes.
At his passing, she was left
Heartbroken and orphaned.
Her mother in time re-married;
Someone new to fawn over her. -

All I can recall
Are the infrequent visits
To my grandmother's house;
Chore-like visits of
Duty and brevity,
The kitchen of uncloseness,
Their embrace of ice
On leaving,
And her name
Not uttered once,
Since they parted, for good.