Bart Edelman

I Saw Your Mother Today

I saw your mother today—
The woman who birthed you.
She was in her automobile,
Stopped at a red light,
Just biding her time,
Until she could zoom off
Into the forbidden night.
Suddenly, she jerked her head,
Somewhat towards me, it seemed—
The same way you often do,
When you’re deep in contemplation,
Pondering some perplexing question
Jostling your mind at the time.
But then she was quickly gone,
Sputtering who knows where.
And I found myself thinking,
Perhaps, you ought to call her.
Check in, now and then,
Even though you have enough reason
Not to engage her at all.
I mention this only in passing.
Nothing more, Dear, nothing more.

Bart Edelman’s latest poetry collections include The Gentle Man, The Last Mojito, The Geographer’s Wife, Whistling to Trick the Wind, and This Body Is Never at Rest: New and Selected Poems 1993–2023.  He lives in Pasadena, California.