Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2013
as a bundle of batik cloth
you carried me
slung across your shoulders
a mess of curls and hungry crying
you sing me words I don’t understand

after the rain
you sweep the fallen leaves
with one arm against your back
and the weight of shadows you could not leave
at home

sleepy faced in a bowl of morning cereal
your fingers braid my bed head
with bright blue ribbons
that intertwine our worlds together
and then apart

red faced
shoes unlaced
i stumble through the door
tripping on sentences
you say nothing
but tuck me in

back in her homeland
she left her two children
only to gain two more
and when i leave for snow this August
i will be leaving not just one mother
but two
'Ibu' means mother in Malay.
Marissa Cooper
Written by
Marissa Cooper  Cali Lumpur
(Cali Lumpur)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems