Furniture

my mothers handwriting never afforded her the long loping
lines of educated grace. Her letters were crippled, blunt-
fisted and left hanging at the edge of a sentence fragment
like her language register, in a university classroom
Her "c's" were cramped like fingers holding onto
something too long

Her sentences veered off the page like a drunk
weaving the center line; her "o's" collapsed in on themselves
while her "l's" and "t's" were left
broken twigs on the page
as kindling
for me

What do you think this poem is about? (I have to find the imagery and figures of speech but I need to understand it better first)