{"id":1407,"date":"2012-01-01T02:35:10","date_gmt":"2012-01-01T02:35:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=1407"},"modified":"2012-01-05T01:27:44","modified_gmt":"2012-01-05T01:27:44","slug":"angela-mankiewicz-0112","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/angela-mankiewicz-0112\/","title":{"rendered":"Angela Mankiewicz, 01\/12"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Orange:\u00a0 My Mother At 101<\/strong><\/p>\n

My mother waits for me,*
\nthis time on a thickly
\nstuffed chair,<\/p>\n

painted in mostly blue
\nto highlight the ice
\nof her eyes.<\/p>\n

She is in no hurry
\nand has much to occupy her,
\nthese unmeasureable spans
\nof possibly passing hours.<\/p>\n

Again, she chooses the orange,
\nwatching him roll it toward her
\nbut slant;<\/p>\n

she sees her small self beaming,
\ntoddling after the treat.<\/p>\n

She picks up the orange and caresses its skin,
\nto have something to do,
\nwhile she waits.<\/p>\n

Eventually, I will come.
\nShe is sure of it and if I don\u2019t,
\nshe will wait a little longer.<\/p>\n

She is in no hurry
\nand has much to occupy her.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Orange II \u2013 My Brother the Fool<\/strong><\/p>\n

My mother waits for me,*
\nthis time on a static-colored chair
\nto match the pewter of her hair;
\nher feet are crossed on an ottoman.<\/p>\n

Again, she chooses the orange,
\nwatching him roll it\u00a0toward her
\nbut slant;<\/p>\n

she sees her small self beaming,
\ntoddling after the treat.<\/p>\n

My brother the fool, not witted enough
\nto be Lear\u2019s jester, leapfrogs the orange
\nand lands on my mother\u2019s feet.<\/p>\n

She hisses like Frankenstein\u2019s Bride
\nand he dissolves, with the orange.<\/p>\n

Some mothers have insatiable patience;
\nmine is not one of them.<\/p>\n

She has much to occupy her,
\nthese unmeasurable spans
\nof possibly passing hours,<\/p>\n

and may forget that I
\nam on my way.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Orange III \u2013 My Grandmother, the Sample Maker<\/strong><\/p>\n

My mother waits for me,*
\nthis time on a sickbed, diapered,
\nlike her mother was,
\nbut silent and unhappy.<\/p>\n

She does not see her daughter
\nlike her mother did, to tell her to
\ncook something for these people,
\nso good to me all day, they must be hungry.<\/p>\n

Instead, she sees the orange
\nand chooses it again, watching him
\nroll it\u00a0 toward her,but slant;
\nshe sees her small self beaming,
\ntoddling after the treat.<\/p>\n

My grandmother, the Sample Maker,
\nis pleased that her child pleases him,<\/p>\n

he who accepted her 28 yearold\u00a0 hand
\nwith grace in a land as indifferent to his near-
\ndisgrace as to her pride in an alliance
\nunattainable where both were born.<\/p>\n

Her pride respects his name; his heart
\nrespects her work when he no longer can,
\nwhen his name no longer offers land or title.<\/p>\n

My grandmother, the Sample Maker \u201cwas no bother to care for,\u201d my mother
\nreminds me and I agree.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou, are not my grandmother,\u201d I remind her
\nwhile she picks up her father\u2019s orange
\nand tears at the peel.<\/p>\n

She is in a hurry and has nothing else<\/p>\n

to occupy her, these measureable spans
\nof impossibly passing hours, waiting for me.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

*Line from Michael Dickman\u2019s \u201cThe End Of the West\u201d, APR-May-June\/08<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Orange:\u00a0 My Mother At 101 My mother waits for me,* this time on a thickly stuffed chair, painted in mostly blue to highlight the ice of her eyes. She is in no hurry and has much to occupy her, these unmeasureable spans of possibly passing hours. Again, she chooses the orange, watching him roll […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1407","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nAngela Mankiewicz, 01\/12 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/angela-mankiewicz-0112\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Angela Mankiewicz, 01\/12 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"The Orange:\u00a0 My Mother At 101 My mother waits for me,* this time on a thickly stuffed chair, painted in mostly blue to highlight the ice of her eyes. 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