memoir of a life
bookended by a teen in labor
and a place for mom;
a father whose paternal anxiety
made her bleed
like she was the child
of another,
and a carousel of ex-lovers,
the fast, magnetic type
in tims, saggin jeans
and pockets filled
with every dream
but rent,
and a ring.

a life spent
throwing things and thongs
at lying mirrors
until clinique said, “bye bye;
those lines and wrinkles
I can no longer hide.”

she never looked
within,
beyond the flawed skin

she never owned
her sins

she never found
her truth

she blamed him,
the father whose paternal anxiety
made her bleed.

~ P