you turn away
it hurts too much
to listen to me
beat myself up
over a stupid picture
it’s a sale, you know
and I must buy my share
one day, you will, too
I’m at home, now,
criss-cross applesauce
rice and kim chee
a fly in my Army surplus Campbell’s tomato soup
salty and bitter
a return to sender
that fateful day, he thought he saw god
why dad why?
she speaks another language —
of civilizations and four-car garages —
I will never understand
in mine,
she would feel probably
just as awkward, fiddling
with chopsticks, sighing heavily
for a starbucks run
but I am dirt and gibberish
the smell of rape
on my mother’s nightgown
and I must have my say
You are such a prolific writer, I am behind on the reading! Being the high school mom with my grandson takes times and energy. And then there's my stuff!