4/25/11

4.25.11 Me Mother Child

My mother
the child
I was never free to be.

Entwined
undefined
striking out at the flies that flee.

Cowering
can I find myself in the mirror,
I stand
    bold
anew.

Am I she who makes me
or something
    else
askew?

1 comment:

  1. Apropos, I think, to use the mirror as a symbol here. Women bearing women, who bear women in turn....ad infinitum, has always reminded me of the illusory "tunnel" created when facing mirrors sandwich an observer.

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