Flannery said its alright to stare,
a direct challenge to the way my mother saw things.
Did Anna Katherine Taylor ever imagine
she could bear a writer, that she had it in her?
Oh, a doctor maybe if she was lucky,
or of course a minister is always nice.
I float outside her dreams now,
corded by O'Connor, Updike,
Annie says to write like you're dying.
All of this and more is possible
only because of my mother's love.