The Sadness Unnamed! Poem by Minnie Gehrig

empty spaces,
the clock is ticking,
I am not so young anymore as
to turn the heads of pretty boys who
lick there fingers and undress me with their eyes,

My daughter is a helium ballon always floating at my side,
and the string dangles from my womb
uninviting and dissmissing,

Though the ocean is calling my name there is 12 years of road
in this dirty city that my feet must find,
I cannot disown these choices, they are mine and at the time well made,

2plus 8 equals 1 so where is this one hiding,
where is the maiden in all these layers of exhausting motherhood,

for the mother is divorced and finds little time to find or look or seek
anything other than the lost shoes and toys of her daughter

My fate is not written in the sandy shetts of the one night stands,
all those men with there fingers ready to grab
a piece of something even she cannot wholly grasp,

all those outsteched hands that she does not want,
yet there is a need for something that burns her
like the thrumming rythm of love
and she despairs in the fear she will never find it
and in fact wakes up screaming sometimes to lighten the
weight of the sadness unnamed.