Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
My Mother Is So Weird

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All it takes      is one      word.      She gets these          things
 
               in her head,         like sticky   string,
    
she says     all blurred that won't stay out ,            like,
     
        well,       just a few letters, sometimes, like      chaps
or something      and she goes  all           quiet,
      staring through us and pretty soon           you can't say      anything
      without her
 
tying it up with that one word.  Ya.     Chaps.      My mother is      so      weird.

OK. Chaps.     She gets us all thinking that      way so      none of us can help it.
     Chapstick. Alright, she gives me the nod.     Charlie Chaplin.
And she gets so      excited, laughing     when we come up with 
     something.     Just one word.           Especially    by accident.
                    Chapter 3           for homework.

      Wow! That's all it takes.         One     word.Then some old              song comes on
or something,     Crying in the Chapel     and she's writing all this down
and lassoing                chapped      lips into a poem about leather           chaps
and before you know it                 we're having          chapattis for dinner
and chaps and dip,            and jeez, don't           chap a nail.

      She goes down      to the computer and builds this           chapsite 
with a chapuzzle          that takes her           days but      she 
throws in some other stuff          like Fords,      (which I don't get)but I like that        
     and a voice           saying "Danger! Danger!" 
Maybe she's really losing it,
                    whatever     it       is.

My Mother      is so      weird. All it takes is   one word.          Chaplain. 
    Even a word she finds                 in the fat dictionary.        Chaplet.
Like, who cares?     But we               go along      with her
'cuz she gets such a           kick out of it. Plus,              she remembers        then
     how smart we really   are          in case she forgot.

    Ya, all it takes is one word.          And now      she wants to write 
poetry               and put it      in a              chapbook.         What the heck?
My mother      is so     weird. Here we go again. 
        Chaperone.          What      is that,      anyway?
She says it's       something my sister needs.     


Kim Clark is a mum times four and a gramma times two, living on Vancouver Island. Kim’s work can be found in Body Breakdowns (Anvil Press), The
Malahat Review
, and numerous other publications. Her first short story collection, Attemptations, will hit the shelves in fall 2011 from Caitlin Press.


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That poem is da bomb. I love this womn's work. She is one weird mama.
Ha! Great poem, Kim. Love it!
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