Unknown Words
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
I have a stash of postcards that I got
For sending to my mother. She had had
A gruesome stroke and so had lost the lot
Of all her language. Well, not quite that bad…
My words could still go into her but she
Could not respond with writing or with speech.
In far off Britain I dispatched a scree
Of cards to her, at least one sent on each
And every postal day. My mother could
Not answer but at least she had them near
Her. Maybe this was something she thought good
There in her speechless nursing-home room sphere.
..Some unsent cards are stored beneath my bed
….Because she’s lost all language. She is dead.
