Linda Levitz '60 has published three books of poetry, including Trusting the Stones, The Dark Face of Planting and Directions to My House.
I Remember Mama
My sister and I watch the family on t.v.
in their wooden house in San Francisco.
The “Mama” with lush blond braids,
her hair a fascination, tightly coiled
in braided chignon lengths, let down
and slowly brushed, thick, yellow,
Our mother is young, intense, brunette.
Her strong arms resin the violin bow
with determination, a swift, smooth arc.
She snaps on her velvet chin rest,
dramatic flair. We hold our breath, wait
for the first swooping notes, “Hungarian Dances”.
Last year, I finally threw away the crocheted
caps she wore after chemo. Limp arm
resigned on the table, she stared out
the window while it dripped.
At night, I talk to her. She hovers
somewhere in the dark above the hanging
fern. I ask if she remembers Mama,
those strong young arms,
that heavy fall of hair.
From DIRECTIONS TO MY HOUSE (Fithian Press, 2003)