Vox Populi

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Lisa Zimmerman: That Blue

When the poet said blue city of bees

I was reminded of the blue cotton robe

my husband gave me, a shade my mother loved—

not exactly sky, not pale, or dense, and yet

a tiny bit celestial, in a Sistine Chapel sort of way.

What I mean to say is the blue robe made me think

of my mother, how she insisted that very blue

looked nice on me and so did pink and other soft pastels.

I wore black instead—black jeans, black t-shirts,

long skirts, chunky shoes—because I was fifteen

and she didn’t really know me

and neither one of us knew back then

I was practicing for her funeral.

Copyright 2021 Lisa Zimmerman

Lisa Zimmerman is a professor of English and Creative Writing at the University of Northern Colorado. Her books include The Hours I keep (Main Street Rag, 2016).

8 comments on “Lisa Zimmerman: That Blue

  1. Lynn Kincanon
    December 9, 2021

    what a turn in the poem…just the insistence of the compliment, how you should wear that color blue, that in itself is the hint of what to come…I love this poem. So honest, so true.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Vox Populi
      December 9, 2021

      yes, I love Lisa Zimmermans’ poems. She combines lyricism and practicality in completely original ways.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. kim4true
    November 10, 2021

    I wonder how many of us mothers, daughters, mothers of daughters, will spend our lives trying to pick apart that relationship.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Lisa Zimmerman
    November 10, 2021

    Thank you for reading ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Barbara Huntington
    November 10, 2021

    Saw the blue, sucker punched by the end. Mothers and daughters. So hard to bear that love and pain.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Rose Mary Boehm
    November 10, 2021

    What a goregous poem. What a goregous blue. What a sad doubl-edfged black.

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Alexsondra Tomasulo
    November 10, 2021

    ahhh, mother /daughter relationships. I love the easy going flow of a brief moment, pierced with a sharpened blade. Your poem reads aloud like sweet water, that gently runs into an ocean, an ocean that the reader may interpret as she wishes. Beautiful, simply beautiful

    Liked by 3 people

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This entry was posted on November 10, 2021 by in Poetry and tagged , , , .

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