The Mother*

The woman who gave birth to me said
Stop playing around, you’re worse than the cat

So she took a bat and hit me
Over the head and kicked me
With her legs and fists
And threw a knife in the air

But only to warn me
Never to behave that way again

Days passed and years as well
Small wounds do still ache and swell
So she took the world and slipped me
Some pills, matches and lit me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gay Piano

My little thumb numb crawling up your bum
I want you to make me pop pop popular

Manoeuvre my tongue through your lung
Like an anchor not down to your knees
But nearer to your peen
The stirring sound of delicate pubes testickled

Where I would not close an eye
Not sleep a wink but play you
Like the gay piano you are
Pinky pink all numb crawling up yours


* Bio(degradable):
A Child was born the day her mother left their family home in anger, threatening to move back to grandma’s house, leaving her and her father standing on the porch. Staring fearfully, she turned to her daddy and asked: “Do you know how to cook?”

* The Mother was first published in Poetry Showcase online.