459
Vultures Ribs' arched Smile, lavish Flower, sweet Swarm over. Sun's heat, Surge of scent. Death does not Relent, expands Pungent. Almost silent, These birds sing Spring's thaw. Inner flesh, each Beak's honed gnaw. Red curtains opening. Patterns My mom thinks her childhood dog Ran away because she petted him As he ate. My mom thinks she Called her grandmother to take her In because her soon-to-be stepfather Beat her. Picked up the phone at age Three, called and arranged for her Grandmother to save her. My mom Thinks her mother did not give her Away, did not choose an unhinged, Violent man over her own daughter. My mom thinks it better to stay With my father for the children. My mom thinks she did not choose An unhinged, violent man over Her own daughter. My mom pets My hair and confides in me as she Feeds me. I am too young to understand Until I grow up and she continues To tell the same stories, confides In me like a friend. My mom Thinks my grandmother took me in Out of favoritism, not because I ran Away. My grandmother saved my life. She also gave me a quilt, its overlapping Patterns I still see when I close my eyes.
