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The way the street looked: |
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dim and polluted, |
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So have I felt when I walked upon. |
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The way the air seemed: |
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gray fog diluted, |
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So do I feel when I'm breathed upon. |
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Ominous head spoke you ain't so good. |
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Poorly the sow joked |
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trashed and words muttered. |
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I want to be mothered. |
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I want you to give |
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attention to my belly button. |
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Mother. |
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I want to have |
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bobby pins stuck in my ears. |
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And drown away the endless days |
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ridding soon the troubled ways. |
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Embedded down with a warm frown |
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in a wrong and impure dream. |
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Anchored down with a mermaid |
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in sound halcyon sea. |
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Lure me in her salt. |
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Liquid canyon far beneath. |
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My mother savior |
|
with her goddess touch |
|
brushes hands through my hair. |
