Darlin' Lil
When I first met Darlin' Lil
she was naked and trembling cold,
needing the care of a tender infant,
though pushing fifty and getting old.
"B-a-a-a-d Baby," said Darlin' Lil,
"B-a-a-a-d brain." Her memories spill.
I cleaned her body
and dressed her for the day,
wheeled her into the kitchen,
where her meals must be pureed.
Set her up at the dining table,
where each meal is slowly spoon fed,
"I pray," said Darlin' Lil,
"Oh Gaw-w-w-d." That's all she said.
I acknowledged her prayer with a reverent nod.
"B-a-a-a-d Baby," said Darlin' Lil,
B-a-a-a-d brain. she remembers still.
"who called you a bad baby?" I asked.
"Muther-er-er," she replied.
"Mother was wrong," I assured her,
"Mother's been wrong all along."
There's a soul in her body
who bit off the bitterest pill,
her mother was a heroin addict,
and Darlin' Lil is in there still.
I told her she was a wonderful young woman,
and she smiled at me and we laughed,
A whole world of joy shown in her eyes,
one of them still blackened,
"She fell," her mama said,
but I think mama lied.
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