Introducing a new series of poems by Julian Matthews. Julian is a writer and Pushcart-nominated poet published in The American Journal of Poetry, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, Borderless Journal, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Dream Catcher Magazine, Live Encounters Magazine, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and The New Verse News, among others. He is a mixed-race minority from Malaysia and lived in Ipoh for seven years. Currently based in Petaling Jaya, he is a media trainer and consultant for senior management of multinationals on Effective Media Relations, Social Media and Crisis Communications. He was formerly a journalist with The Star and Nikkei Business Publications Inc
Link: https://linktr.ee/julianmatthews
By Julian Matthews
some nights, my mother’s saree enters quietly,
unannounced, swirls and curls like incense
she spins me around, fitchecks my form,
spits, tamps down cowlick, makes it stick
my mother’s saree goes about her business,
inspects room by room, scoffs at unpicked socks,
unmade bed, unwashed laundry & unread books
she runs fingers on surfaces, tut-tuts the dust,
groans at clouded windows & dish-piled sink
my mother’s saree blindfolds my ego, masks
my fears, holds my tongue, enters my right ear
& comes out clean the other side
she pulls at my nose, massages my shoulders,
dissolves my pain, rubs Vicks on my chest,
cradles me gently & long like a baby in a sarong
my mother’s saree reminds me of broom & cane,
to look-left-look-right & look-left-again, of crossings & crosses,
constancy of purpose & leaps of faith
she churns my heartache, spots the real yearnings
from the fake, cackles at my longings
& resigned fate
my mother’s saree gets dramatic, makes like the weather:
wind & rain, sweat & swelter, whispers to me of seeking sun,
shade & shelter
she rattles on: rinse & repeat, watch & learn,
be grateful, forgive, but never forget, do or don’t do
& which part of No did you not get?
my mother’s saree is the tie that forever binds
i can’t tell silk from cotton, truth from spin,
until she unfurls in
she is grief that enters, checks in & checks out
she incepts & interrupts, wraps like a wreath,
bundles like a blanket, cuddles & coils,
then stabs like a foil
my mother’s saree leans close,
blows a mote in my eye,
makes me blink, then winks
she exits as she came, treading lightly
i beg her to stay, but she just sashays away
First published in The Marbled Sigh, USA
