beneath a child’s fingertips
carbon lead streaking line
chuckling and feeling fine
mom holding her breathes
snap ”give me that pencil”
she run, hid on her chest
another words then pinch
helpless but falling tears
“ here’s your doll, don’t cry”
she looks up with question why
tired of barbie; really dumb
broke in half; into trash can
pick up remote watch her show
giggling with characters she know
fall asleep on the couch, no issue
later she’ll be running congress
your money and world peace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem