Not Built Like My Mother
1974, first hairstyle;
a shag that cuts a figure
around my face.
I am a barn with a gambrel roof.
Ideas, already contemporary,
are inspired, larger.
Several sashes are my eyelids,
counterweighted with books,
going up and down with pulley and rope,
detail characteristic interior functions within.
This is new math.
4 thoughts on "Not Built Like My Mother"
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very nice! i love this one a lot
the physics of growing up…
That last line!
I’ve enjoyed reading your poems this June!
I love the last line, too.