Maybe I’ll Write Some Mother Poems for Mother’s Day

(even though it is a Hallmark Holiday and every single day is Mother’s Day more or less)

Many years ago I had a friend who’d gone around

the world for two years with her college boyfriend.

Street theater performers, they earned their living

working where they could.  The two years were

wonderful but near the end my friend’s boyfriend developed

an awful disease and he suddenly died in Brazil.

She came back to New York to graduate school and

immediately started therapy.  She’d been seeing a therapist

she liked very much for two years when I asked her

what the therapist had to say about her boyfriend, life

and death.  “I haven’t gotten to him yet,” she said.

“I’m still discussing my mother.”

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.


  1. Oy, Esther, your stuff just gets better and better. A sub title for this poem could be “First Things First”.
    Keep on truckin

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