Debra Song Poem by David McLansky
Debra Song
You look at me bemused and with a grin;
Your brow furrows and your eyes express
Black moist sympathy
And so patient
Like a mother might be with a child
Whose head for the moment is too filled
With giant-dragon imaginings;
What to the child is mothering
Is to the adult contempt;
That's a great mask you've got there
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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4/25/2024 8:11:52 AM # 1.0.0.1119
