Having had the audacity {you have the option to substitute a different term:)} to enter this poem in competition, I am posting it for a limited time. Y'all are so good to give feedback. . .and to be perfectly honest, I feel this is among my better efforts. Always hope! <3 Pea <3

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Ink Drawing, Brown & White


You stand before you fall
on the scrubbed white square
you call your kitchen.
Behind on the rent, of course.
Why you take in ironing
and keep this child
whose mother gallivants.
Starved yellow sun peeks
through bite-size windows
you curtained off white
by hanging rags along string
from a ball saved knot by knot.
White flour, white table,
white sheets you have piled
in a basket you call bicker.
Other color cinnamon
For snails! the child thinks.
Then you will wash my hair.
I love that flour whitens
the apron beneath your face.
Round cracked glasses shine
on you. We are not going to think
what can happen. Not
when we have cinnamon
and butter from next door.
Sugar-sugar-sugar for the top.
We are going to have milk
with our snails on the porch
where it feels just right.



(c) Phyllis Jean {Dawson} Green