Enough, Mother

 

 

I am a dancer, dancing is my practice, my

Meditation, when I walk Iím like a samba

I am grounded in the discipline of dance.

 

I let teevee, I let addictions steal my source

Of me.

Years pass until I am no longer worthy

But the

Body forgives, dirty job but someoneís gotta

Do it

I am backpeddlin all the way to the Buddha baby

Who, like any child,

Wrestles life thru her senses

A dancer I ditched who inflames Loretta

And still canít help but drive men wild.

 

I am my motherís daughter.

 

She gave me dance and she gave me music and I

Thank you Queenie for the gig you gave me

It will sanctify the dishonor of your body

The twisted fucked up remarkable beauty you placed in

The service of dominating men

That was

You mom, your contrivance, not mine

I donít have to fear the gift you tried not to offer

I can take what you ungave without stealing your mind.

My heart knows what it took and it

Is enough.

 

Enough.

Sufficient.

As in, perfection.

Just one relic as more is excessive

Superfluidity, that was

You, smash-up,

Miss Ellie Mae Hicks.

 

Fluidity, trouble-free,

enough, Mother, for

Robin Marie.

 

You can still be my mama,

The only one I got

Letís say sayanora, itís been good to know ya

Enough, now for

 

Disappearing me

 

 

 

 

 

Home.

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2003 Robin Plan and troublewaits.com.All rights reserved.