Tyranny of Teacups
My past has been nearly obliterated
by the dissolution of
my mother’s belongings:
treasures accumulated
over a lifetime.
Wedding China
mortgaged to me, unwitting
daughter. Sterling-ware
sold to the silver monger,
one neglected soup
spoon left, alone in the padded,
ornate box. Lost the
handle on the inlaid cabinet.
Shattered the hand of
the Mama-san porcelain
statuette, leaving an
innocuous hole. Vanished
the mate of a pair of China dragons. Bent
brass table,
tarnished to a green, scummy residue.
Roller off the carved Georgian chair, crippling,
my inheritance, to
which I’ve been held hostage.
A relief and a letting go, gone
to Goodwill: the
chipped dinnerware;
the mix-matched
flatware; the closetful
of tatters, dangling
on clothes-hangers;
dozens of coverless
romance paperbacks;
chenille bedspread,
frayed and worn—
my mother’s house,
travesty of a once-
imagined life and distorted
dreams.
Today, cups and saucers,
a complete set,—pink
with gilt
trim and matching
butterfly designs,
for my daughter’s
wedding shower.
She covets
them—little nooses looped
into the future to
lure us all back
guiltily to a time
that never was
in a world treasured
only in retrospect,
or by the dead to
whom these cups
no longer belong.
Cordelia Hanemann is currently a practicing writer and artist in Raleigh, NC. A retired professor of English at Campbell University, she has published in numerous journals including Atlanta Review, Connecticut River Review, Southwestern Review, and Laurel Review; anthologies, The Poet Magazine's new anthology, Friends and Friendship, Heron Clan and Kakalak and in her own chapbook, Through a Glass Darkly. Her poem, "photo-op" was a finalist in the Poems of Resistance competition at Sable Press and her poem "Cezanne's Apples" was nominated for a Pushcart. Recently the featured poet for Negative Capability Press and The Alexandria Quarterly, she is now working on a first novel, about her roots in Cajun Louisiana.
as real as it gets in family dynamics or as they say in ukraine "the russian fever" which is way of indicating depression passed on like a disease.
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