The Other Mother


On Mother’s Day, I wonder

Do we make a list of who has mothered us best?

I do—

Why shouldn’t my children?


Today I wonder why

it was so hard to love the woman who gave birth

to me

So easy to love other mothers?


Other mothers who seemed to love me

Even more than their own

Who gave them so much trouble

Yes, I was the sweet one


My mother is dead

So are my Other Mothers

Who I have pretended to be

All my life



Ice dancing

the trees in my backyard

are dancing

celebrating the wind

the ice, the rain

the coming of spring

the departure of winter


Toronto is boring, you say?

Sometimes, I agree

I lie

Toronto is hopping

with music and fun

I just stay home