She is staring over my shoulder
I feel her burnt kiss snag my ear
Trying to suck my earring off
Her ash mouth, black with cornbread sweetness>
Like music and rose quartz longing
She whisper, that ain’t right.
Frowning at my mislanguage
Always a disappointed sigh.
She too much like my aunts
Who drank their livers into roaches.
Drank their daughters into slivers.
Why do I hold my breath for you.
That you’ll come for me. Through the
Pen. Like I’m chosen.
Poem of the Month for, www.writersatwork.com, January 2010.