In My Mother's Parlor

"These women were invasive 

and blunt, but in the darkest times

they knew how to show up."

Teatime was a ritual, more rigid than early Sunday mornings and 

the rim of our mothers' church hats

When the china had been polished and the floors scrubbed clean

The parlor was filled with mamas and aunties and the smell of citrus. 

Their perms and pearls, glistened in the sunlight pouring through the aluminum windows 

They prayed and gossipped in equal measure 

For they had very few pleasures... 

Fingers fussing over loose threads

A bout of good weather  

Someone's daughter or other graduating school

Strangely, they seemed to relish bad news

For it gave them something to do 

And how they wanted to do, to be of use

Be it a prayer circle, or a casserole 

But on that unremarkable afternoon, Amanda's scandalous affair would have to do.