THE FIRST MOTHERS DAY AFTER THE LAST MOTHERS DAY
Slowly it dawns on Sunday morning
that you didn’t call nearly often enough
and didn’t send nearly enough cards
or thank her nearly enough
And even if
you put the cattle racks
on the big grain truck
and filled it with flowers
till it ran over all four sides
Even if you drove it to the cemetery
and dumped the whole damn load
on her single rose grave
it wouldn’t be anywhere near enough