Sticky Survival..........Childhood memories.....Mum
Mum
Sat hugging the Red Bible on your life-station
The sofa....
But never reading it....not since our loss
Eyes raise as i enter, as two solemn pools of acceptance
Resignation,
You are in your forever spot
Now
Till your lonesome end
Slowly mellowing a large round hole in the butt cushion
Gazing out on rooftops that glisten with no intent
You dear mother in your solitude depression agony
Are hellbent
To pursue doctors advice
Pills and appointments
Each time gravely escaping....dreaded death
To watch grey soap operas
No significance
To the real...The living
Occasionally you sit in judgement
On which soapstar is behaving badly
Cheap and tacky
Which surprises me mother.....
That you....
Who dragged all of our names through newspapers
Court judgements
And cells of black bars and worst of all
Our bloody school
Where the grey matter of teachers and children alike
Children just like we.....
At the time
We were so small in the playground
where the wind whistled lies and truth between
Flowing scarves and tongues
As Valerie announced for all and sundry
Your Mothers gone to prison...again
Pro...sti...tu...tion.......... HAHAHA!
I never knew
As the words and wet rain slapped my face and heart
i didn't know what one of those were
But I'd heard my mum was a tart
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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