Mothers Day (Poetry)

No card on the mat again — no word, no sign
nostalgia or sentiment crosses her mind —
the shops full of soppy-sweet, flowery gifts
commerce makes doublesure no one could miss
the date when most mothers stand duly revered
by offspring turned dutiful one day per year.

So suddenly stripped of the maternal crown —
out of sight, out of mind once the kid has skipped town —
family abandoned, cut through the blood’s cord,
a small crayoned ghost left at home in a drawer
suggests maybe ties aren’t so simply undone —
her stick-figures smile for the world’s greatest mum.