Mamma Didn't Come

Restored poem...

It was warm that day

I found the catseye marble

In the mesh bag at the

5 and Dime off Flushing Ave.

I remember looking longingly at

My grandmother and my brother

Hushed me before I could say

“Granny can I have” cause

She was tired from another long night

Of changing stained sheets at the Waldorf on Astoria

And scrubbing linoleum and chrome to pristine

And ushering us across the hotel from room to room unseen

We shared a bed she put a quarter in to make it vibrate and we slept

Like co-conspirators wearing our green buster brown jeans carrying

Our converse since we had to be there cause we couldn’t be home alone

In the new neighborhood in queens.

 

Mamma didn’t come get us again.

 

Granny’s eyes were weary red, 

The color of the vinegar

In a jar of pickled pig feet

And my brother knew better

Than to speak when she was barely

On this side of a dream and prayer words

Slid from her lips softer than a sigh

“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus why?  Why?”

My brother shook his head and asked “how much more you need to buy?”

“Just a dime, just a dime but Dee, I woulda had it but

 

Mamma didn’t come get us again.”

 

We took Granny’s bags

Struggling under the load cause she

Has been carrying us for 3 years

And she hailed a gypsy cab that squealed to a stop

Shuddering on bent rotors and resting on the curb

Haphazardly

The book on his seat guaranteed to teach

English as a second language

And he was a darker shade of black than me

“Hot garbage” my brother snickered and I laughed

Cause now as an adult I would say the cab smelled like a*s

On fire

But Granny was to bone weary to notice

Or she just needed to get off her feet

Cause she didn’t say anything about her car and the fact

We waited at that store for over an hour and

 

Mamma didn’t come get us again

 

S~Savant

 

Author's Note

this is a restored poem....

Reviews

[Verneé]

I loved this. So sad, filled with pain and longing. Beautifully written. Well done.

[Blemish In The Stars]

This is a great poem, as in amazing. It really creates a picture for people. You can "see" the longing and sadness in this poem. A brilliant piece. I absolutely admire your writing and I'm looking forward to reading more.

[[untitled]]

Yeah ... you most definitely are a poet!

[Nik'aule]

The imagery here is so vivid, its amazing. I can feel the bed vibrate, smell the pickled pigs feet in a jar as the watery red color of her eyes creeps into my mind, hear the sadness in his voice as he whispers urgently, Just a dime, Dee...

When you can write fiction like you're recalling a memory from yesterday, you're in a whole 'nother class of writers... excellent work

[Jadarae]

This piece was absolutely beautiful. Left a lump in my throat.

[Eshe' Allen]

very nice. i like that you let the event create the emotion, instead of adding it yourself. that would have made it overly dramatic. you allowed the scene to work it's own magic. very nice.

[Me.]

reading this poem reminds me of how much i love prose poetry!! i love the repetition and isolation of the "mamma didn't come get us again" also, the colloquial language made the poem sound even more personal and childlike. both a great story and a great poem, good read!

[Siddartha Beth Pierce]

STUNNING! True or not - what a lovely story - how nice that the grandmother took over where someone left off - it is a tragedy that families are seperated these days and unable to afford a marble. Having been through a divorce myself and having a child I must share has ripped me apart in so many ways but still I would give anything to give my child the world as this lovely grandma did...Your writing is brilliant in this piece. Thank you so much for sharing it with us. I miss my grandmother and have written about her on this site as well. They are very special creatures our grandparents - if they want to be...Blessings to you and your family,Siddartha

[Tamela J. Gordon]

This was beautifully poignant. It amazes me because they do so much and work so hard for us, and I'm sure they think it goes unnoticed. Your grandmother would love this. It's definitely an ode to her.

[Fire]

Alright ... so this speaks to me from a few POVs ... the weariness of the grandmother trying to do right by her grandsons even though she is soul weary. The resignation of children who accept the deepest of flaws in the only parent they seem to know. The overall weight of muted dreams and surreal realities ... I love this Dearest ...

Fire