The Last Time I Peeked In Mama's Room
I wondered how she would act that day.
Her door was ajar; I peeked in.
The scene I saw made me pray.
She looked so angry; then
I feared she’d come out.
Would she whip me?
Would she shout?
Why would
she?
I,
she had
often said,
was very bad;
so she’d stay in bed,
take pills, rant, cry, and drink.
Why could Mama not love me?
That’s when I saw the gun. I think
the scene I saw, no one could un-see.
FICTION
December 31, 2018, entered in John Lawless's Slap the Muse Contest
This one got NA'd--not once, but twice! Can you imagine? This poem deserves
to place because--well, because it's a masterpiece. This fact must be obvious to you, to anyone! :-)
Date: May 16, 2019
Contest Title: The Applicable Not Applicable Contests
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureaux
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