I do not miss the one you call Mother
the one that speaks with prior knowledge
the one that speaks in the tounge of others
the one whose children far outnumber
the ones that passed the womb as measured
as regular children are decendants of the crown
as the blessed children of the one before us
I do not miss the one you call Mother
the one in gray tones and grey matter
the one of perm of purchased styling fathomed
whose children far away are scattered &
one with offspring and
another without
yet far apart
yet apart
yet far
yet &
yet
not
at
a
.
