Why the bangs?
This silly poem is in response to this week’s FBTF, and the question –What conversation would you like to have with your parents, that you never had yet?
MoreTreasured poetry and bargain prose await all who enter here.
Childhood
Trailer’d
I went from white womb to buttery rectangular living. A corn-colored carpet, below a honey countertop, with a cut glass ashtray like a hive, my mother’s flaxen fingernails tap, taps, tapping her smoke rising, garland around our Christmas tree. The multi-color lights blink, blinks, blinking behind tingly tinsel. Quiet evenings, my sister pull, pulls, pulling […]
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