Resting on the park bench, she complained
she couldn’t keep pace with her children.

When the seven-year-old pest returned,
demanding, “Ma, give me money”

for a cola, she complied,
thinking it love.


She couldn’t touch her toes.


Her legs pushed away from each other, yet

in her cotton dress, unexpectedly
as she swatted a fly, she began to float

and meticulously shrank from sight,
bouncing along the horizon.

To continue, click here.
Copyright 2015


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