My mother speaks for the collective

By: Esther Sadoff

She says we are hungry, we are tired.

When my father gets a coffee, she says,

I’ll share my coffee with you,

even though she ordered orange juice.

And maybe she means orange juice,

or maybe she means what’s mine is mine,

what’s yours is mine, and what’s mine belongs to all of us.

Whatever my mother eats, my father eats it too,

so much so that now my husband and I also declare

we are hungry, we are tired, announcing for the collective

what must be true. My mother takes my cup,

maybe by mistake, and she drinks it.

Or if it’s water, she gives it to the plants.

Now, I try not to put down any glass in her presence.

But the best part is that I don’t have to speak

because my mother speaks for the collective.

---

Esther Sadoff is a teacher and writer from Columbus, Ohio. She is the author of four chapbooks: Some Wild Woman (Finishing Line Press), Serendipity in France (Finishing Line Press), Dear Silence (Kelsay Books), and If I Hold my Breath (Bottlecap Press). She was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Hole in the Head Review.