Sorry Mom Poem by Josilinia Plyman

My mothers voice echoed Aristotle
warning me of the pleasure of harms;
and you are my incontinence.
Purposeful ignorance of blaring alarms.

Stupid girl, poison isn't always bitter,
sweet water stops more caravans than drought.
No one looks at the dust in their cup
until after the body count.

No, the Mississippi wont always flow backwards,
you wont always be afraid.
There wont be an 1812 earthquake to warn you
Of the direction of your fate.

It is the water that is flowing down,
it is the river that is blue,
it is the cool drink on a hot day
that drowns you.

Laughter may be the best medicine,
but never be a fool-
as often as you are grinning
they are laughing at you.

The hand that reaches forward
to wipe your away tears
most closely resembles
the fist striking up fear.

So often it is the body
that warms you at night
that wakes and burns the bed
just to shed a little light.