Poetry
(Swans - October 21, 2013)
She takes care of other peoples' children so
the other mother can have places to go:
she has to go shopping, she has to do chores,
she has to have tea with other idle bores;
now down a Central Park side-street you hear cheeps—
the nanny says, "That's where the baby birds sleep,"
pointing and shaking a garden-planted fir,
instructing; the mother must really trust her—
I wonder, while she's making this sacrifice
of her days and her mind, fostering the nice
(does the mother trust her simply by default
as she doesn't want to spend the time she ought?):
unless she was born for this and must atone
for poverty—who's taking care of her own?
If you find David Francis's work valuable, please consider helping us
Legalese
Feel free to insert a link to this work on your Web site or to disseminate its URL on your favorite lists, quoting the first paragraph or providing a summary. However, DO NOT steal, scavenge, or repost this work on the Web or any electronic media. Inlining, mirroring, and framing are expressly prohibited. Pulp re-publishing is welcome -- please contact the publisher. This material is copyrighted, © David Francis 2013. All rights reserved.
Have your say
Do you wish to share your opinion? We invite your comments. E-mail the Editor. Please include your full name, address and phone number (the city, state/country where you reside is paramount information). When/if we publish your opinion we will only include your name, city, state, and country.
About the Author
David Francis has produced three albums of songs, one of poems, ALWAYS/FAR, a chapbook of lyrics and drawings, and the film Village Folksinger. His poems and stories have appeared in a number of US and UK magazines. His Web site is http://davidfrancismusic.com. He lives in New York City. (back)