Ma’am
do you think i am my Mother
wandering through grocery aisles
arms full of dry goods looking
for a cart to pour all
this money into
before we spoil
do you think if i stood right
at the edge of the lawn
reached far
back into brambles
i could drag myself up and out
16 and covered in scars
roll me up in sunlight and say
you do not have her eyes
2 thoughts on "Ma’am"
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being called “Ma’am” evokes mixed emotions in me, too
Rather be called ma’am than “Sweetie” at Dr. appt! Great poem!