Mama

Mamahood in a life-death cycle

Mama love me
like a sundress,
like a watercress,
similar to a candied caress.
I want women to swoon
to fan and sway
and forever say
a good Mama she was today.

Mama love me
like a tornado
like and ancient arcade-
Oh, like a rusty potato.
I want tulips on my grave
a little past full bloom
to a whole fucking room
a good Mama we'll assume.