My mother used to say...

By: Gillian Leonard

(after Marianne Moore)

“There are two types of people;

you are one, and I am the other.

You tend to dwell and think too hard.

Remember all those parties I had

after your father left. He was just like you.

And what about the books you read?

Everything has to be dark.

Like Viktor Frankl––I just didn’t get that book,

the one you said totally changed your life.

And the boys you bring home are just like the books.

You should go to the beach and find some different boys.

You’re too pale. There’s nothing like a good tan.

Maybe try some lipstick.

Do you ever have any fun?

Light my cigarette, maybe the train will come.”

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Gillian Leonard was born in Washington, DC and raised in New Hampshire. She attended Hampshire College and Keene State College, where she received a BA in English. She moved to New York to pursue her MLS degree at SUNY Albany and remained in the area, working for many years as a reference librarian. Her poems have appeared in Poetry Online, Indolent Books’ Second Coming poem-a-day project, Maya’s Micros (a project of The Closed Eye Open), Light Poetry Magazine and elsewhere. Her poem “Flight to Lithuania” received an hon-orable mention in the 2022 Invisible City Blurred Genre Contest. She also received an honorable mention in the tiny journal‘s 2025 summer contest for her poem “Deep Ocean.”