Dress

I remember a dress Mother
once made my sister

Mother was so pie-eyed
the pinned-up seams

went askew
neat stitch-work

was implausible
because Mother’s hands

shook wildly with delirium
tremens. That didn’t prevent

Mother from getting
disgracefully sentimental

embarrassing my sister
in a gin-soaked display

of theatrical heartbreak.
I know my delicate sister

stashed that appalling dress
deep in an obscure cupboard

and never ever wore it
until the day Mother died.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist