Imagining Mother

like Wagner's operas,
her mouth ripened into an orange circle
uniquely her own when she tried to upstage my ambition,
but i continued to work even in the abstract.
in fact, when i finished a recent portrait
of my mother
it looked more like me than i did in infancy.
i'd guess she could have been my twin, but her hair was too
dark, the hard eyes very brightly German, and
even her pale complexion was not completely mine.
her head was drawn like a black grape
in a white glass
full of intrigue
and i heard her calling from the canvas
that i was late for supper.
i was amused by what looked like a case
of mistaken identity and
could not resist testing the limits, so
i continued to play.