Laslo Dazzles His Mother

Shot of a sad woman in mask wearing old-fashioned black dress.Laslo dazzles his mother.
At breakfast with the pall bearers,
she wore a long, black brocade.

Numbly, she twines the purse strap
’round knotted fingers, as once she did
the dark, ropy curls
of her boy’s head.

Laslo confounds her:
The home is silent still.
The moldering upholstery and
faded arabesques
in the worn parts of the rug,
like Laslo, are enduring.
Only the matted face of a cat’s meow
misses the warm crook of his arm,
the scent under his skin.

For long he padded through doorways,
mumbled over his tea,
and clanged
the spoon inadvertently,
while somewhere a bird chirruped
to the insipid sounding
of his heart.

Laslo dazzled his mother
with the indolent rasp
of his every breath.
It has never ceased to alarm her
that he could,
or even should,
have been at all.

Chance had made a man.

But the marvel grew tiresome.

The sight of his
deep shadow on the wall
with hunched shoulders —
seeming of itself to wear
a small, ironical grin —
that does not easily leave
his mother.

With the resolve of the afflicted,
she lifts her gaze
and knows this:
Such as he was, Laslo can never be dislodged —
like something that has caught
in the maw
and curdled there.Retro Floral Pattern on Fabric Background

 

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