Mothering
I hear my mother’s
whisper in my mind
each time I think
of trying something new.
Stay alert. This world’s
not safe. Don’t take
chances that might
harm you. I can’t
be here to protect you.
Be attentive, be aware.
Know that those you
trust the most
will be the first
to break your heart.
Sticky
Sticky stuff grabs hold of my slippers,
won’t let them go. I grab a flashlight,
trace its footsteps up the oven,
to the burners dripping grease
and gooey goo. Sticky stuff
types up a ransom note
for my slippers, but I grab some
household cleaner meant
to vanquish grime forever.
Sticky stuff lets go of my slippers,
slithers out the back door,
taking with it the oven, floor,
half my patience,
and the concrete walkway
as it flows.
published in Author Lifestyle and Book Talk Magazine: Edition 2
Comentários