
Patches of peach-white crash into coffee stains
On the hands and face
Bleach peppered band tees form a net for the
Mittens who have held so many ripe fruits
And rotten babies, mostly boys
Green stalks bend showing reverence as she
Saunters by, eyes glittering with knowing
They don’t tell her much-her face is a billboard
Of petals falling over with worry for hearts
Sipping from the lakes of the cruel clouds
The solitary girl she has is shiny and her
Light attracts the wayward bugs with bellies
Full of deceit dressed up in their brand of
Love they fill her womb with lies and babies
That decide not to come down I can’t say
I blame them who wants a mother foolish
Enough to gorge on promises everyone knows
How the tongues of man work they flip around
Coating the ear with sounds that taste like
Opportunity, yet run down like spilled yolks
When it is time to pay the mother waits by
The television for shrill ringing of the phone
Her glass heart listens to another call
Seems there are more children born
that she can’t Hold It seems that
Kristallnacht is on a Continuous loop
They take everything she has and
Each day she is left to rebuild
Parasites from conception.
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