My Mother Could Whistle

My mother could whistle
and so could I,
loud and piercing

to cut through the noise
of everyday living
to get the attention
of a child far away.

It saved the vocal cords
and seemed more discrete
better than hollering
out loud in the street.

It truly was not lady-like,
more of a masculine thing

but I learned it from my mother,
who was refined and genteel
in most of her ways.

She never crossed her legs
when wearing a dress
and kept her knees together
when she sat on a chair

put one foot forward
when she wanted to stand
spoke softly and giggled
behind her hand

she never gossiped
or told lies

you see, she was a lady
and wanted me to be, but

I couldn’t keep my knees locked
and lied and gossiped often.

I laughed too loud,
and decided young
I didn’t want to be a lady

if it meant
having to subdue
my innate desires

but other than that
I learned to whistle
just like my mom.