-T-h-e-Q-u-e-e-n-
My Mother
Smiled
as she offered
a cube of
Sugar
in her
upturned Plam.
greedily,
I accepted.
I reached Inside
my mouth,
delicately Pacing one
(Just one)
On the center
Of my tongue,
& i clamped
down.
Salt.
that is what abuse is:
Knowing you are going to get salt
but still hoping for sugar
for nineteen years.
-You maybe gone, but i still have a stomachache.
