Matriarchs of My (un)Making

Posted: November 16, 2014 in Uncategorized

Disapproving dead daughters of the American evolution

          shake their heads with mild disdain

                            disarmed by my presumption.

 

                      Close enough to touch faded Hollywood royalty

                              I rudely extend my hand

                            and am ensnared within their ghostly opprobrium

                                     a smothering shroud of fluid ectoplasm

                      a sticky wet net to catch the unwary.

 

          Unworthy of the glory they’ve appropriated for themselves

                                            how dare I display such confidence!

 

Soon endless gauzy mornings and days unnumbered

                    settle like dust and detritus to incubate the hungry night

          cloaking the haunted mansions they once commanded

                              and which I was allowed to visit.

 

Now I return again and again though only in dreams

          come to know – perhaps to worship –

                         the matriarchs of my (un)making.

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Comments
  1. Bob Burkhardt says:

    Mommy Dearest?

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  2. Victor says:

    I want to know more of this story! Very intriguing.

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  3. RusticDove says:

    “The matriarchs of my (un)making” – that resonates with me. (BTW, I also had to go to the dictionary for “opprobrium”.)

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  4. Herbert Toll says:

    Oh yeah. Now we’re getting somewhere. Opprobrium?!!! Sent me to the dictionary! Keep ’em coming.

    Like