Plain Janes

My mother was beautiful

Everyone's mother is beautiful, to them

But mine was beautiful in the way that leaves no room for argument,

No vacancy for a personal opinion

Beautiful like the ground’s beneath your feet

Beautiful like becoming aware of your own breathing

Nobody had any say in it

Least of all her

Least of all me

I wonder what we’d say if we did

My mother was beautiful—

that might be all I needed to say,

every word after those superfluous—

Everyone with a beautiful mother knows exactly what it means

For her

And for the rest of us.