"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
Your naked blue body
like a wet rubber doll
still and soundless
a moment too long.
I strained to hear
as you were rushed
to the warm light
in baffling seconds
of doctor talk.
I saw your spirit rise above
the glint of sterile steel
and felt the milk of life
rush from my breasts
eager for your tiny mouth.
I held my breath
while God held yours.
And my heart was revived
by the sound of your long
awaited cry.
When in the cradle of my arms
we met.
LOSS OF LIFE
I see in your face
the burden print,
the molded gloom
in your old eyes.
The in and out
of each shallow breath
is transfixed
between
us.
You want me to know
with a slight squeeze
of your mottled gray hand,
and insipid sigh~
your lust for life
is less than yesterday.
And I struggle
with these reins
and the pain of knowing
we have arrived at a
parting place
harnessed by
our fear
of freedom.
The June Cleaver Story
Watching bread rise
and baking pies "for the boys,"
Did you enjoy telling those lies
to little girls who tried
to make something from the crumbs?
The high-heeled episodes
once a week
we took a peek at what normal
should be and felt relieved
for what awaited us...
We trusted you, June.
And so did Ward, Wally and the Beav.
Blessed Madonna of the kitchen
no one heard you bitchin'
about.....anything.
Those pearls and dresses
hid the messes and PMSs
you didn't want us to see.
We, who wanted to be...you.
Did you ever feel blue and bloated
in your wax-coated world?
Look us in the eyes, June.
And the lie continues
in syndication
vindication in reruns
for women who make fun
of what never was.
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