Adolf Von Becker
Maternal Happines
Mother and Son
She goes on with her story,
this woman whose twelve-year-old son
has drifted into the party;
her mind is still with the guests.
But her flesh has claimed possession of his.
She pushes his hair back from his eyes,
curls a lock of it around her finger,
while continuing to entertain us
with her wit. The touch of her hand
embarrasses him, but only a little;
he shrugs slightly, that is all.
Now she smiles at him
as if conscious of his presence
for the first time. It’s a loving smile, of course,
but not altogether a friendly one:
there’s a pride in that smile
and a sense of power,
even a hint of cruelty. She’s a normal parent.
She pinches his earlobe now, plays with the buttons
on his shirt, talking with us all the while.
He wriggles for an instant, and then
surrenders, half-gratefully,
half-resentfully, to her caresses.
They both know she’s the stronger,
that she’ll be the stronger for a while yet,
that he couldn’t break away from her
even if he could make up his mind
that it’s what he wants.
~ Alden Nowlan ~
