A Poem by Patricia L. Goodman

Letter to My Daughter, Unsent

It's Monday, the day I drive
your son to his flute lesson,
come back for dinner.

I had my widowed mother
to dinner every week, too.  I knew
it wasn't enough.  I let children,

horses, gardens prevent more.
Tonight I arrive with your son.
You meet me in the driveway,

I just got home, Mom, a late meeting.
I'm exhausted.  Dinner won't work tonight.
Sorry, Mom, I'm really sorry.

I lie, tell you it's okay.  You give me
a quick hug, walk from my car,
the porch light casting you

in sharp silhouette.  I drive home,
blindsided by generations
of loneliness.



Patricia L. Goodman is a widowed mother and grandmother, a graduate of Wells College with a degree in Biology and is a member of Phi Beta Kappa.  Her career involved breeding and training horses with her orthodontist husband on their farm in Chadds Ford, PA.  She has had poems published in the likes of Aries, The Broadkill Review, Sugar Mule, Requiem Magazine, Jellyfish Whispers, Fox Chase Review, Mistletoe Madness, Storm Cycle, Poised in Flight (All from Kind of a Hurricane Press), On Our Own (Silver Boomer Books) and The Widow's Handbook.  Her first book, Closer to the Ground, was a finalist in the 2014 Dogfish Head Poetry Competition and she has twice won the Delaware Press Association Communications Award in poetry.  She lives on the banks of the Red Clay Creek in Delaware, where she is surrounded by the natural world she loves.