Pew Perti

1)
when she wore sleeves and pant cuffs
up to her neck
- she delighted “where babies don’t cry,” she gurgled
incessantly. until my patience
wore shoes to the parlor for made supper and folded laundry
amongst theoretical tragedies and melted
quite
_m
e l t
e d_ forms of
the woman-child deposited themselves
with crossed-armed fashion into apron strings
tied and up and ready to hug away that
they told me this day was here, was
near and pooh poohed them all
did I did I oh, what did I say?
Mother? that time where, then-there quite liquefied myself
into a matching banshee; but the skinnier version of mine
2)
Mine. Mine like a subject matter to own. The kind where her very existence did depend upon myself and my habits like a square might need its corners to be. not to mention torn pereniums and whatnot.
And I thought at her age that I might like to join the rodeo. and so I did. to the tune of a queen i bent and formed my heels to L's. and I dont tell it this way, but the only reason I won was that nobody ran against me.