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bookworminaminidressPoems
Georgia. Three years under my feet sat Georgia. She wasn’t my mother, My sister, My aunt, Or my cousin’s best friend’s transgender brother. Georgia Was 59, 425 square miles of home. Family. A place for unconditional love to roam. Georgia Was familiar, Like the smell of my mother’s perfume, Or my oldest family heirloom. Georgia Stretched as wide as she could Until one hand met the ocean And the other held hands with Alabama, Their history together still slightly filled with tension. Georgia Bumped shoulders with South Carolina, Each unaware of the changes that were about to take place A fifteen year long path they could never retrace.
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Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 2:16 PM UTC
Georgia
Georgia. Three years under my feet sat Georgia. She wasn’t my mother, My sister, My aunt, Or my cousin’s best friend’s transgender brother. Georgia Was 59, 425 square miles of home. Family. A place for unconditional love to roam. Georgia Was familiar, Like the smell of my mother’s perfume, Or my oldest family heirloom. Georgia Stretched as wide as she could Until one hand met the ocean And the other held hands with Alabama, Their history together still slightly filled with tension. Georgia Bumped shoulders with South Carolina, Each unaware of the changes that were about to take place A fifteen year long path they could never retrace.
Written by
bookworminaminidress
American
Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 2:16 PM UTC
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