A Species of Mother

Crooked seams and a garter belt,
daytime TV and a Whitman’s sampler,
Queen for a Day with a twist—
she held us fixed in the sneer
of Cagney, his glee in pitching
a wheelchair down the stairs, grinding
half a grapefruit into a woman’s face.
We kept quiet, nurtured ourselves on m & m’s
and told each other the story of a forest
where mothers left children
in the care of a tender witch.