By Audrey Weisburd
Mother,Â
You tenderly trace the outline of my baby faceÂ
The cupcake cheeks I contour now Â
Bare lashesÂ
Unpursed pale lipsÂ
You drag your pinky down the slope of my cartoon noseÂ
Before the blackheads came inÂ
Before matte powder covered me upÂ
And shut you outÂ
Mother,Â
You draw my soft cheekbonesÂ
My satin jawline Â
The stencil of innocenceÂ
The perimeter of purityÂ
Your entire face squishes towards the centerÂ
A nurturing smileÂ
Spills from your eyesÂ
I exhale, as no harm can touch me nowÂ
Mother,Â
You beam at the angel in your lapÂ
The angel you createdÂ
You drew me from scratchÂ
You delicately draw my modest faceÂ
I shut my eyelidsÂ
Naked of ash and smokeÂ
And drift into cartoon dreamsÂ
Oh to sleep in your steady cocoonÂ
againÂ
Mother,Â
You rest your eyes Â
And begin a Godless prayerÂ
That the weeds of the world neverÂ
Tangle me dryÂ
When you are not there,Â
That although I will grow Â
surrounded by dirtÂ
The sweet seed of love in my soulÂ
Remains intactÂ
Mother,Â
The girls have given up now
The boys, they gawk and grabÂ
The girls call the girls uglyÂ
The boys turn into vultures Â
when the lights dimÂ
Sobriety became a commodity Â
Treading through tidal waves,Â
I swimÂ
I remember you,Â
Mother
Audrey Weisburd is a sophomore majoring in television, radio, and film with a creative writing minor. Storytelling is her greatest passion, through films, songs, poetry, and conversations. She loves cats, dancing, music, and trying to capture the most honest beauty of the world. She is from Austin Texas and has career goals in screenwriting and journalism, but she plans to continue her poetry for her entire life.