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White Clover
I hope my mother remembers
To think of me
When she sees a girl
Who wants to be free
She’s so perfectly thin
Smiling through the pain
Of stretching her skin
So the goes away
hunger
I hope my mother knows
I did this too
And she sees my hair
That I would rather chew
Than eat a crumb
Of bread or sweets
She might call me dumb
So she
won’t know
I hope my mother remembers
To think of me
On the bathroom floor
I hope she hears my plea
My dying wish
Wasn’t to be beautiful
But was one last dish
No more hunger
Copyright ©
Grace Vaughn
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