Mama It's Me
A crimson aversion to the past
Gave me a decorative perspective
To my appearance
Gone are the days
When I was an acrylic girl
The people saw past
Even to my mother
I was transparent
Lost among three brothers
Mama knew everything
The boys were about
The football, track—
The red lipped
Lacquered face girls
They brought home
Nothing so much as a whimper
Of my hearts desire
Got through the door to her
But now I'm red red wine
A year reserved for special occasion
And she'll never see it
No comments:
Post a Comment