Doug Roy, Buggy Mandala, Cut Paper
Mom Anecdote No. 2 *
She called me down to the car, to crawl in
so we could go to the Good Place together.
I’d have fun without end, and feel fully
content all the time, and never take
any punishment, just play and play.
I already knew if anyplace ever
could be so blessed, she never could come near it:
it would need protection.
My body wouldn’t move away from where I was.
She called again, then carried me to the car,
set me inside and got in herself.
It may have been a murky morning,
but down in the garage it was dungeon-dark.
The engine turned over. Even at two
I was sure the door shouldn’t be shut
when the car started. The stink grew stronger.
Fumes felt firm as they filled me up.
She left the car, left me alone.
I bolted back up the stairs, back
to the farthest part of the floor I could find,
threw myself down, didn’t dare
imagine what might happen to me.
I’ll never know what notion or whim
or laziness allowed me to live.
I’m forced to believe in some form of fate;
but no miracle will make me call it mercy.
*Previously published in Brian Jerrold Koester’s new collection, Why the Trumpet Is Blue (Silver Bow Publishing, 2026)
___________________
Brian Jerrold Koester
Review by Marc Janssen
I was unprepared to read Mom Anecdote No. 2. After reading it a few times I think I am still unprepared. Unflinching is what I would say. The poem presents a child’s experience from an adult perspective, or maybe both at the same time. The most horrifying part is the betrayal, where they would go to the Good Place together then all of a sudden in the seventh stanza she leaves him alone. The first stanza is sinister and filled with danger and the seventh is deceit and horror.