Monday, October 25, 2010

Torn Through Conditioning, I Burn As Our Only Living Witness Grows Cold

You are still the Mother Figure.  I swear, I have seen you bleeding before the mirror with a widow's vacuousness.  Don't believe for a minute that we ever meant you harm as we locked your dirty secrets away in that back bedroom like so many failed histories.  The timing was just all wrong.  I read the lines on your face as I sang you to sleep.  You drank and smoked with wild abandon alone in your dreams where you called the shots.  I miss you MOM, everyone misses you.  The world is a mess without your strong will to guide it's rotation.

Denise Lorraine McCubbin

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