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
being called “Ma’am” evokes mixed emotions in me, too
Rather be called ma’am than “Sweetie” at Dr. appt! Great poem!