Frames

Frames

Most surreal,

the object my life

has become.

An exquisite taste 

of bad liquor,

the exotic barer 

of rotted fruit.

I have eyes falling over me,

all the time.

And I want

what every woman wants;

I think.

A hug from one son,

a kiss from the other,

and a smile from both.

Not the tears

that mix with my coffee

every single morning,

an acquired taste

of bitter bean

and salt.

I stare at the unblinking pictures

of my children

hanging on the wall.

Wanting to step through their frames

every once and a while.

Reviews

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

oh~ as a mother I find myself trailing your heartrending painting~ picking up pigments on the way~ aching to help you repaint the canvas~

[Robin]

poignant ~ a heart anchored in her children ~