My husband gives me an A
for lasts nights’s supper
an incomplete for my ironing,
a B plus in bed.
My son says I am average,
an average mother, but if
I put my mind to it
I could improve.
My daughter believes
in Pass/Fail and tells me
I pass. Wait ‘till they learn
I’m dropping out.
Linda Pastan
Saturday, October 5, 2024
Poem: Marks
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The gravel road rides with a slow gallop over the fields, the telephone lines streaming behind, its billow of dust full of the sparks of the...
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Tell me: how is this night different, from all other nights? How, tell me, is this Passover, different from other Passovers? Light the lamp,...
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I envy those who envy me for traveling. Sometimes I sit on a foreign street in a busy cafe, imagining you wishing you were here, ...