Friday, May 10, 2013

Mom sonnet


chest full of secrets
tarnished flapper hair brush
maybe you tried it once

mother son and father
no litanies or beads
money treated with concern

every womans needs


we were born
wrong for each other
at wars horrors end

you loved me
with a vice grip
felt money desperate

if only you still had that smooth shiny depression dime

Here's a link to me reading the poem.