POETRYREPAIRS 11.02: 016
Mama Land by
LYN LIFSHINIn Her Last Days She Kept Saying She was Going Somewhere Different
016POETQ3 : Finally Got Some Whistles
POETRYREPAIRS v 11.02: 016
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LYN LIFSHIN
In Her Last Days She Kept Saying She was Going Somewhere Different
Couldn't I see it in her eyes? Not knowing what to get some one dying we flooded her with birthday cards the May before. Mama, I've said "she" when at first it was "you." But this is the day you broke thru flesh howling, this is the day your father looked away, the first and not a boy. Rain all week in Virginia. Today isn't better. We were glued at the hip my sister used to say, smirked. Today the white white petals of trillium we dug up together a Sunday after your mother died are tinged with rose as if bleeding
POETRYREPAIRS 11.02: 016
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Her Last Days She Kept Saying She was Going Somewhere Different Finally Got Some Whistles navigation  
POETRY requires a mature audience ENTER only if you are 18+ under 18? GoTo Games

016POETQ3
Finally Got Some Whistles
in a tattered high school diary. I know it's not P.C but I'm asking you, does a little "wow" hurt? I'd like it better than being asked barely over 30 if you want a senior discount or have a woman your own age offer you a metro seat? "Finally got some whistles," August 4, Cape Cod. After days of rain, a relief. It must have been in it says a lavender dress and earrings. No matter my mother wouldn't let me actually go out with the boys I met. "3 cute guys" it says on the next page and "Hell," after the definite no I couldn't go. Listen, do you really think it's demeaning, harassment if some one just looks? Words like a loving tongue. I'm not talking about something creepy in the alley at night but that look leather pants (unlike sweats) always get me, a reminder, if even not 30, someone's noticed my long legs, huge eyes. a whistle, a "baby," doesn't have to mean anyone wants anything more than the sun on the back of my neck, lilacs brushing my skin with a sweetness. I forgot I remembered how my thighs are strong, my breasts against cotton. "Baby, baby," for once not blues but an air kiss that reminds me I'm alive and I should be glad that someone else sees this
POETRYREPAIRS 11.02: 016
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