Sad Pome

Untitled [A house just like his mother’s]
by Gregory Orr

A house just like his mother’s,
But made of words.
Everything he could remember
Inside it:
Parrots and a bowl
Of peaches, and the bright rug
His grandmother wove.

Shadows also—mysteries
And secrets.
Corridors
Only ghosts patrol.
And did I mention
Strawberry jam and toast?

Did I mention
That everyone he loved
Lives there now,

In that poem
He called “My Mother’s House?”

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2 responses to “Sad Pome

  1. Pingback: My Father’s Phone | Light Motifs

  2. Thanks for posting this. It is especially meaningful to me but the story is a bit complicated and I don’t have the energy to face it at the moment. However, now that you posted this, I’ll have to deal with it. Perhaps I’ll write about it in my annual Bad Mother’s Day post.

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