Are You My Mother? Blog Post

On the inside cover of Are You My Mother?, the book is summarized as a memoir of “how [she] became the artist her mother wanted to be.” Instantly, I knew Alison Bechdel and I would have a lot in common… based on the first half of the novel, I think I was right in my assumption. This is a poem I wrote about my mom (an ex-professional pianist) and me (an aspiring dancer).

Mother and Daughter Dim light is made brighter in your mahogany hair that Sways back and forth just above the piano’s music stand They melt together in an auburn sheen which blurs my memory Of the face behind the notation and vibration and resonation Four walls and eighty-eight keys and books so worn Their spines crack in webs of whiteness and you hide Behind them all, behind the assumption you could not Offer something new or shiny or limitless to an audience Audience is judgment and my vulnerability unveiled A black sweater painstakingly pealed from tingling skin To leave me naked, translucent and cold, trembling Before eyes blind to the memories that dance on my heart Seeing only this instant, this slicing arm or swiveling hip That should somehow convey the fullness of humanity Yet fall shorter and shorter until I want to be small, too Hidden behind your four walls and curtains of mahogany

--Hanna T.