Sink
Sweet-smelling daughter
Hair like honeysuckle
A grandmother's creek bed hands
Rinse water through and through
Child's neck sorely over
The hot sink
A sweet-smelling daughter
Is always better.
Away
I sit in dark movies
Wrist broken
I wish for spinsterhood
I ache for motherhood
I cry for true love
I weep for independence fierce.
I starve for countable ribs
I drink only water for days
I caress my soft belly with love
I ask for the espresso cheesecake
I long to explore Africa
I hide myself at home.
Copyright © 2005 Jenny Lewis