ParagraphMom is mum and ma’am is mom, but mom loses value when runt is grown. Never seen and never touched, if only to trace the arch of a hunched backbone. If only just, if only I could, just, to brush against the brush of cheekbone.
ParagraphSoft sores and guilty gush, between the lips reveals a bluish crush.
ParagraphParagraphIs it so? Is it true?
Oh Broken Bones, my gift to you. I’m glad that you, if you would please could please would, j-j-just please,
seize my breath, over ten thousand feet of cavernous depths.
ParagraphI remember now, the yellow days, of white-blue sky and brassy sun.
Why, Beautiful Mom, your expertise tried and true, has damned lives and won countless wars.
ParagraphSkin of metal, alloy of copper and zinc,
Paragraphthis Golden Boy is no more than a Silver Son.
Magma seeps out of beaten pores. Why, nothing beats like a bag of bones, or like shiny rock, or like the silver stones that sit on the ring finger of Mama’s hand.