Topside and turned over,
rising yeast fills the skull with soft wheat.
The rabbit ran dripped in innocence,
mother sat in her chair,
ankles crossed and placed close to its wooden frame.
When the world spoke its truth, no, sang it,
all that pushed through to solidify her words were mused was a timestamp,
A personal account of all that time wasted.
Looking at this reminder of where you haven’t been,
the earth spat in your face
“Vivir y Dejar Vivir!”
But to live means to fight,
maybe not with fists,
words and money will suffice.
As the rabbit ran,
her hands grew sharp,
maybe the time clock stopped,
mother licked her lips
snatched the hare up and said,
"Yes, sure,
born into a life of deceit,
can you see your defeat?"
Plucking meat from her teeth in her cherished, chair seat.