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1991
by Meghan Helmichi am miss pennington's teacher's pet;
my mom was asexual - in our house of women.
the bathtub walls held buckets of toys,
things that floated in bubbles.
cake icing for breakfast-
i was alone the whole time.
the smell of the house is pot
but to me, i only remember
the bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits
while we sat on duct-taped boxes
of fragile china.
my first bedroom, my first orange cat.
they said i won the Eckerd's coloring contest
because of my crayolas;
i think it was in consolation -
i would never be seven again. 01/01/2006 Posted on 03/14/2007
Copyright © 2024 Meghan Helmich
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Melanie J Yarbrough on 07/04/08 at 05:40 AM those last two lines hit so hard. well done. but that second stanza-- about what actually was versus what you remember. amazing. great job here. we do have similar molds :) |
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