Mother’s lesson,
fresh lash against
my cheek, mix of
tears and mucus trailing
down trembling lips.
My spit on the floor
takes the shape of
memory: Crazy!
Father’s words
loaned to me,
spoken too soon
by a boy too small
to fill his shoes.

Mother’s lesson,
fresh lash against
my cheek, mix of
tears and mucus trailing
down trembling lips.
My spit on the floor
takes the shape of
memory: Crazy!
Father’s words
loaned to me,
spoken too soon
by a boy too small
to fill his shoes.