A beautiful baby,
my mother says.
Fresh and pink
in ugly sunlight,
she said I was a beautiful baby.
I was
never
a baby.
A brilliant toddler,
my father says.
Tripping and content
in stupid frills,
he said I was a brilliant toddler.
I was
never
a toddler.
A confident schoolgirl,
my grandma says.
Sure and purposeful
in awkward braces,
she said I was a confident schoolgirl.
I was
never
a schoolgirl.
A supporting lifeline,
my best friend says.
Constant and solid
in my manic tears,
she said I was a supporting lifeline.
I was
never
a lifeline.
A tender angel,
my lover says.
Graceful and light
in my demonic hate,
He said I was a tender angel.
I was
never
an angel.
I have been forever an adult,
I say.
Scared to death
at the prospect
of being looked to.
Eldest of eight
role model
of seven.
I will forever be
the cringing
adult.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I really enjoyed reading your poem. Even though I was the youngest of two (my mom couldn't have more after me) I was one of the oldest cousins and we lived in a house where it was huge and lived with our cousins. So I was always told I had to be a good example. Ugh. LOL
By the way, I didn't have your email so I couldn't find a way to contact you other than this. But I was looking over my notes from class and realize that even though he spoke about an epiphany, that wasn't on the list of 4 ways to write. They are: 1) Arc, 2) Pyramid, 3) Jack-in-the-box, 4) Firework
Post a Comment