19.7.23


above the bed he hung a yellowed sketch his mother made of him when he was a boy

she drew a man a strange man whose eyes were turned aside in the way a big cats eyes would look as it crouched above its kill a handsome man in whose face lurked a melancholy silence a silence tempered with humour and intelligence which shone in the strong angle of his jaw robust furrows around his mouth

he didnt recognise himself

his mother told him that when he became a man he would see that she was right 


looking at it reminded him of how vulnerable he felt as she sketched him and overwhelmed him imagining that this likeness had appeared to her twenty years earlier

the paper she sketched him on came from a large bound album she recorded family recipes in she wrote in Polish and her personality was apparent in her lines and letters the sensitive drawings that crowded its margins 
                                                                                                            she penciled and colouredin flowers exotic and fantastic birds animals strange fruit dramatic eyes disembodied hands mouths poised naked body parts that seemed alive onto themselves

he loved her drawings recognised themwho they were but the words she wrote made him uneasy they were as queer as those in her Latin Bible that lay on her nightstand
neither the Bible or album made any sense
                                              yet every evening she sat in her rocking chair deliberately paging through themreading them under her breath  made strange sounds mysterious sounds incantations and when she stopped and laid them on the side table her cheeks were flush  her countenance peaceful 


he was horrified when she abruptly tore a page from the album and asked him to sit so she could sketch him 
he almost ran               

she asked again 
                  Please.  it seemed to mean a great deal to her

they were alone

he sat on the porcelain drainboard beside the kitchen sink

the windows above it were open  he could smell the hot metal of the screensthe beginnings of rust on the breath of the wind that came up he smelled warm apples pears the turnedearth in the garden mulched with leaves grass cuttings

the late afternoon sun washed across his back

he forgot his fear


his mother sat across the kitchen table from him and crushed her first attempts into tight little balls 
                                                                                                         absently strewed them across the table

then finally pleased with what was revealing itself she drew easily and talked to him

he didnt remember what she talked about

he didnt listenhe was caughtup in a thing that seemed to pierce him body and soul a pride arousing himswelling in him it sucking his Adamsapple deep into his throat 
                                                 she was capturing on paper from an album she reveredthat she spent so much time with  committing the delicacies of her life 


when she finished the sky and the kitchen were darkening

she told him to hop down from the sink look at the sketch

she turned it around slipped it to his side of the table then leaned back in her chair exhausted

gingerly he picked it updidnt want to appear too anxious

after looking for a moment he said Mother It doesnt look like me

with effort she lifted herself from the chair and came around behind him

crossing her arms over his she hugged himkissed the top of his head I can see you very plainly, Joe.

resting her cheek on his head she began to weep 
she stroked his arms
                       This is yours. I drew it for you. pausing she composed herself May I hold it for you?
she pressed her lips to his hair smelling him as she did the first time just after he was born she whispered  You can have it when I no longer need it.
14 February 1990
1146,  day-between-2-Ts,  19  7. 23
Doris Day  Que Sera, Sera.  (Whatever Will Be, Will Be)  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSKf4bpXthY

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