Dear daughter in prison,



Dear daughter in prison…

When you feel so alone and

there are bars on your door

I am standing beside you

of that you can be sure.

When letters don’t come

And you think you’re


remember how

against all advice…

I still spoil you rotten.

I’m there beside you

in ways you can’t see

even though you kick

and you scream

as if you were three.

Soon your caterpillar

skin you will shed

and my beautiful

butterfly you

will be free…

hopefully before

I’m dead

or before

I’m lifting

seventy pound

care packages

at ninety-three.

Your loving mother,

Jeanne Marie