Mama
Mama is a boozehound
shefll spit poetry
and bourbon fire from her throat
sheave your heart in a clean
split
of mean tongue and a bottle of
bad emotions
shefll dethrone what you thought
was yours
Molotov your insides like a
top]shelf
margarita on the rocks
care little if she spills
down the cleavage of her blouse
a carnival makeshift make]up
mouth
spitting wet kisses and
beer]heavy breath
painted lips in
stop sign red
sloppy from the third round
Mama is a pretty lady
sewed up smile
quaint like a rag]time doll
red and bow]like for public
appearances,
mirrors
Mama is a depressed bird
gilded]caged tongue
a ball and chain suffocates
her meaning of life and freedom
plucks at her parrot]plume of
poem
bald and ashamed
at the thought that words
ever needed living for
dying for
wishing she felt that way
about her babies
her old man
prose just another
bad habit
praise too addictive
Oh, Sagrado Corazon de Maria!
Oh, Sagrado Corazon de Jesus!
If only I was a praying woman,
ate up the hope for a savior
like a communion wafer
melting beneath the tongue
on another hopeless Sunday
If only I could bleed at the
feet, too
like my mother
the martyr
like all mothers are meant to be
heads laid out in a gas stove
while thoughts of sugar plums
dance in the dreams
of children
in the next room
because I
donft pray
I live,
Mama
is a boozehound and I paint
my eyes to look just like hers
@
BACK
NEXT
@