Sestina for Mom

Mom really wanted that piece of land.
The one out there in the country
where there's a pond and lots of trees.
Dad agrees and then we even get cows
and some emus because a farm always
has to have those two things.

But even though we were content, things
were bound to happen with that land
because the volatile good times always
lead to an insidious mess in this country.
Nothing ever lasts, but at least Mom had the cows
and she always remembers the tall, solid trees.

So sad how one’s dreams can become ephemeral trees.
Nothing can assuage his taste for avaricious habits.
Then Dad says no more hay and saltlicks for the cows.
And it’s now a bargain chip, no longer a piece of land.
Mom doesn't like how Dad is in this country.
But he says it’s for the best, loves us always.

Mom threatens she'll hate him for always
if he takes away the solidness of all those trees.
She needs a sanctuary of calm from this country.
And she's tired of working and his betting things.
Mom is scared Dad will gamble away the precious land.
I even remember having to burn one of the cows.

Some might think it is trite, the thought of cows
but if you knew how much it meant. She always
dreamt about that freedom in that peace of land.
But dad went ahead and sold those tall, solid trees.
Because he was thinking of other things
like how to make money in this capitalistic country.

Mom wonders what she hates more: him or this country
I remember, at the auction, selling all the cows
and selling all the beloved emus and acre things.
I will remember the sight of Mom crying always,
the cut on her legs like slashes on those solid trees.
A distant memory in her mind of that faraway land.

Now we live in an empty country with no trees.
And mom always has to hold on tighter to her things
with the memory of burning cows in a desiccated land.