August 2018
I don’t think coherently about anything until I have picked up a Lamy fountain pen and let the ink glide across an unlined page in my Rhodia notepad. My family, poetry, my long-running workshop, and my standard poodle are the passions of my life. My latest book, Gravity: New and Selected Poems is now a reality; I plan to travel with it this year, and hope to meet many V-V poets along the way. More at: www.donnahilbert.com
Note: My mother wearing the dress named in the poem became the cover of my second poetry collection Deep Red. The cover was a surprise to us both. When Mother saw the cover, she sunk to her knees and sobbed with joy. Only by bearing children, did I ever make her happier.
Mother in Satin
On Saturday nights, my mother
took off her blues jeans,
put on a red satin dress
with a wide circle skirt
that swished when she danced.
Or, a black brocade sheath dress
with a peplum of white lace
and rhinestone earrings
that jangled like ice cubes.
Or, to backyard parties, a pink
waffle pique with a sewn-in
brassiere and laces up the back.
In springalator high heels,
open at the toe, she twirled
across the patio onto the grass,
unwinding like a bolt of organza,
her Tabu perfume simmering
in the torchlight, she danced
past the clothesline, past the built-in
barbecue, past the ornamental
fish pond, turning
into herself for the night.
Mother in Satin
On Saturday nights, my mother
took off her blues jeans,
put on a red satin dress
with a wide circle skirt
that swished when she danced.
Or, a black brocade sheath dress
with a peplum of white lace
and rhinestone earrings
that jangled like ice cubes.
Or, to backyard parties, a pink
waffle pique with a sewn-in
brassiere and laces up the back.
In springalator high heels,
open at the toe, she twirled
across the patio onto the grass,
unwinding like a bolt of organza,
her Tabu perfume simmering
in the torchlight, she danced
past the clothesline, past the built-in
barbecue, past the ornamental
fish pond, turning
into herself for the night.
© 2018 Donna Hilbert
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