Evening gown.

You wear a white evening gown,
hair curled, puffed and pinned to the head.
You hum a tune from an old movie,
something about a forbidden love, and I watch
from your feet, the swish of your free skirts,
the anticipation of your heart flutter
dancing at your heels.

I watch again from your chest long weaned,
the thin lines around the lips that now, no longer sing.
“Mother,” I call out, but she doesn’t hear
“Mother!” I shriek
Come out! That which you love,
you smother!

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