My Mother

Ellen Bryant Voigt

my mother my mother my mother she

could do anything so she did everything the world

was an unplowed（未整修过的） field a dress to be hemmed a scraped knee it needed

a casserole（勺皿，砂锅菜） it needed another alto in the choir her motto was apply yourself

the secret of life was spreading your gifts why hide your light

under a bushel（蒲式耳） you might

forget it there in the dark times the lonely times

the sun gone down on her resolve she slept a little first

so she'd be fresh she put on a little lipstick drawing on her smile

she pulled that hair up off her face she pulled her stockings on she stepped

into her pumps she took up her matching purse already

packed with everything they all would learn

they would be nice they would

apologize they would be grateful whenever

they had forgotten what to pack she never did

she had a spare she kissed your cheek she wiped the mark

away with her own spit she marched you out again unless you were

that awful sort of stubborn broody child who more and more

I was who once had been so sweet so mild staying put

where she put me what happened

must have been the bushel I was hiding in

the sun gone down on her resolve she slept a little first

so she'd be fresh she pulled her stockings on she'd packed

the words for my every lack she had a little lipstick on her teeth the mark

on my cheek would not rub off she gave the fluids from her mouth

to it she gave the tissues in her ample purse to it I never did

apologize I let my sister succor those in need and suffer

the little children my mother

knew we are self-canceling she gave herself

a lifetime C an average grade from then on out she kept

the lights on day and night a garden needs the light the sun

could not be counted on she slept a little day and night she didn't need

her stockings or her purse she watered she weeded she fertilized she stood

in front the tallest stalk keeping the deer the birds all

the world's idle shameless thieves away