Mother Daughter
By Krista Redman Posted in Poetry on March 27, 2014 0 Comments 1 min read
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Split in one, two, three…
Breathe. I can’t hurt you now.
I am yellow. But I am hers.
Iron, floods, and screams,
Like me, she is desperate
To remain un-maimed,
Holy like baptism,
Slaps the priest square in his unclean mouth.
Laughter, bitter and naïve,
She is just my acid image
Chewing me over inside her head,
Marking her, corrosive, as she is

 


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