[Stacy is my adopted litle sister]
What I am I am without
apology or consideration for
lack or slip or foundation.
My mother could not be one
I have gone far beyond her
black stumbling shiftlessness.
Found long ago a sensory way
tell me how I should act or be
and find yourself bad history.
In as many places and directions
as I have lived my hair says hello
with a smile of daffodil yellow.
My feeling like is the final word
right foot knows only the left
shifting balances out the curse.
Comfort comes from inside out
what kids want and mothers too
is pride and a blanket true or not.
I try too hard to try not at all
on my isle in a sea of strangers
surviving answers in small pleasures.
Proven I am and still here
what’s dear to me few can know
the ringing freedom in my ear.