POETRYREPAIRS 11.02: 017
Mama Land by LYN LIFSHIN \
May 25
Door Mat
POETRYREPAIRS v 11.02: 017
contemporary international poetry - for your reading pleasure,
poetry from new and established poets and essays on writing




All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge



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LYN LIFSHIN
May 25
Mama, today got scrambled: I know you thought you could fix anything, keep me safe. Nothing I won't not think of in a few days. Still, I wanted today quiet as a bay of glass, wanted to think of you pushing toward the light in Mineville. Un like your father, if I had wanted a child, I'd have wanted a girl, with dark eyes who loved gipsy music as much as you did. I should calm down before I write, enraged at some thing in the mail. But our rooms were never pale, were full of drama. Comedy and tragedy lamps and earrings, copper plaques, it was your nature too, the fire, violet rose and the silvery weeping cherry, your voice a bell when there was no thing to rage at
POETRYREPAIRS 11.02: 017
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Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato







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May 25 Door Mat navigation  
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LYN LIFSHIN
Door Mat
I can still remember how annoyed he got the first time I used it, "Door mat," the way his mother let a brute of a man walk all over her. "Door mat"—you'd think I'd called his mother whore or bitch. Not strange, I went on, so many women are at ties. I stated a list of them: the ones who faked orgasm to keep some man, the ones who say nothing when strangers look and call their husbands, "charming, so nice." Door mat I say. I like the word. The ones someone else wipes their feet, their penis all over: what woman I want to say without a job, a good job and kids hasn't had a stint keeping her mouth shut, making excuses. One friend has taken to buying cheap sexy clothes, bustiers and fish net instead of painting. Door mat, dour mat. Door mat I want to scream at him, at my friend who coddles a 45 year olds son who probably steels her money. Even Hilary was I hiss, standing up for him with his penis in who knows whose mouth. I want to say, maybe because I feel so tired and hardly an Amazon today, walking about, some one not me, afraid like all the other D. N's to say what I am really thinking
POETRYREPAIRS 11.02: 017
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