that old Formica dining table
topped by oil cloth, stiff and brown
set the scene of my descent into anarchy
Dada’s rage clung with such tenacity
down that duck-egg green wall of shame
how could Ma stand to feed the brute
and be so user-friendly
was beyond my imagination
a thousand meals of sacrifice
another ten thousand more
when she could no longer be his golden goose
she was any body’s whore
-----
Carlyon Blackman is a born/bred Bajan native of Barbados who is defining/refining her voice through poetry. Previous publications include The Caribbean Writer. Carlyon can be reached at blackberryjuice@hotmail.com
3 comments:
Going from strength to strength. Great writing. I too remember chicken on a sunday (and the men getting the lion's share)!
What a truly "delicious" poem! Luv it.
Sooo delicious, I can even taste the poetry! Wonderful
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