you may have to reach a certain tipping point
ie., the final 3rd to realize that when your parent
dies the child you were mourns the loudest
screams + shrieks + hiding under the bed
and then there is your adult pain the severing of the
physical body from your sight Oedipus plucking his
blindsided by the cutting and truckhit by the never
yet also glimmers of a freedom not known one that
squarely facing your own grave provides
frolic squander do whatever thefuckyouwant this one life
is finally your own don’t blow it on a new car GO DEEP!
I knew a woman named Rhonda at 90 she was still crying
for her mother’s soup
Fall 2022 ..ccccourage..
Great poem dear.