Mother, Daughter
Jane Attanucci
With every angry quip and shrug,
she breaks my heart.
Her silences cut to the bone.
Mirror, mirror on the wall:
Wild Girl, Superwoman, Crone
—who’s who? Who are you?
In blood-red dreams, she rages, shouts.
She’s stubborn as stone.
She’s yours. You’ll figure it out.
With every angry quip and shrug,
she breaks my heart.
Her silences cut to the bone.
Mirror, mirror on the wall:
Wild Girl, Superwoman, Crone
—who’s who? Who are you?
In blood-red dreams, she rages, shouts.
She’s stubborn as stone.
She’s yours. You’ll figure it out.
About the author
Jane Attanucci spent her first career as a professor of psychology and women’s studies. Since retiring, she has studied with David Semanki at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education. Her work has appeared in The Healing Muse, Blast Furnace, Poetry Quarterly, Third Wednesday and Boston Literary Magazine.