Mother Ma

MOTHER MA

 

'Their, there, they're', she cooed, 

'you'll be better in the morning.'

The two, too small, teeny, tiny, wee lassies

lay, laid, laying under a heap of blankets.

They, them, had been unwell for a spell.

It graved her deeply to the marrow.

 

Mother Ma, went to door,

lean, leaning, leaned neither in, nor out,

hand drawing down, to make way for sleep,

to they, them, snug,

'It's been a long, longer, longest, day sweet ones.'

'Nighty, night, sleep well.'

She looked at them lovingly,

with eyes closed, closing

they laid lying still sleepily.

Morning was a way's away.

Nothing was if not something.

She was never ever if not hopeful.

 

They were identical, the two tiny.

They looked the same as if one.

It was hard, harder, hardest to tell 

which was who, whom from which.

Tho one eye blue, as if sky,

the other, gray, grayer like cloud.

Garments were a matter of Tom Foolery.

Ever practical twas a farce to behold.

They always never wanted the same things,

like, liking what the other hadn't.

If it couldn't be, it wasn't.

Purposely they lived, living by the open sea,

close enough to it where the wave would never reach.

One tiny perfected to dress like a buoy,

oh, ha, which was fine by she, at Halloween,  

but always never in a fog moonlit while lying limp upon the swell.

She clanged, clanging her charms, sounded, echoed, echoing cross the blue and mighty.

With next rise of sun, when tide scattered,

they came to be alive. 

A livest at eight, they, them, ate,

a bowl big, bigger, biggest, round, and famished, 

left leaving none for the gull,

at most, groats hearty to fill the leg. 

Better, best as not.

 

Mother Ma said, 'let you stay home from school,'

Full, fuller, fullest of vim, they, them fought 

fighting over whose toys were whose.

It was as unlike as war, with no peace,

it wore mother warily. She desperate, desperately,

undecided, I must make a choice,

not for the better, none for the worse,

but so be it.

Salvaged, aloud quietly she whispered, her ears to listen,

I will poem them.

With hand raised, raising it pounded her ears 

like the beating heart of the surf, surfing.

 

And poem she gave...

 

They would meet over dinner 

Around the big table,

She would tell them a tale

A story, a fable

It was the tale of a monkey

Born without tail

A tale of a witch

With a hole in her pail

The tale of a knight

Afraid of the night

They'd all build a fire

And stand in its light

I'm hungry said monkey

Who pulled out some meat

If you want it to cook

You put it near heat.

I'll help said the knight

She pulled out her sword,

And we all know a knight

Is as good as her word

 

How shall we cook it?

What shall we do?

I like veggies

Let's make us a stew

They added the meat

And one big potato

A carrot or two

And several tomato

 

By the fire they stood

The pot it was hot

They threw in a vole

And a mouse that they caught

They threw in a skunk

And a bat and a rat

All we need now

Is a black and white cat

 

Out of the blue

And in front of the gloom

Another witch came

Passed by on a broom

I'm looking for Missy

Who seems to be missing

I stepped on her tail

And off she went hissing

Witch number one

Looked at witch number two

You look just like me

Or I look like you

Which witch was which

It was so hard to tell

The monkey exclaimed 

I'm under a spell

 

But the knight was no fool

She hardly felt fear

She went to the witch

And she stood very near

Please stay for dinner

You'll like it I'm sure

It'll be ready

In an hour, no more

 

Witch number two

Was extremely suspicious

This stew is the best,

It's extremely delicious

She took off her cape

Then doffed her tall hat

Have you by chance seen

A black and white cat

 

No, said the knight

Oh no, said witch one

The monkey said nothing

she only said, um.