February 1, 2013
A La Carte
She had to have been chronically fatigued
It was responsible for sending her babies,
top incisors through her bottom lip.
She picked her up, and cleaned her up
Watching the clock
It must have been heavy in her eyelids,
And her arms and her back,
Hunched over as oozy bananas splattered
The spoon an extension of her limp, languid arm
In youth you know nothing, she knew nothing.
Just the way she sat and played in her food
Watching the rise and fall of her,