Dying Mother
- Dying Mother-
Perched on her stool but getting there
Angry at paper that just does not care
Onion unlayered in the last of her skin
Paper be angry, paper be thin
Blotched and embattled, unwashed and pajamaed, the bladder goes dry on the floor Not telling her why, two teeth left in a mushy jaw
I am still alive but who knows what for
Walking swollen ,chapped and scaled , stuck like Mother goose
Hearing goes harder than misunderstood
Drinks from the vine the everyday bottles ghost from the past
Wherever i am going I am getting there fast
Will they buy my a casket, or burn me with gas
There's comma 'tween now and forever and a hyphen just before hell
The nothing hereafter gets as good as it gets
Copyright © Jannie Breedt | Year Posted 2016
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