Girl or Just Violence from Here: Poem Ten
Mother rendered fantastic canvases, petite glass slippers and Prince Charming, strawberry sky-lightning strokes coloring fairy mushroom forests diamonds and gold. She sketched comfort: a chenille blanket, Earl Grey, chicken noodle soup, hot drawn bubble baths by warm willow-wood fires where China and Christmas parties brushed elbows with painted Pegasus. Mother rendered fantastic canvases, oils on male sketched easels to plaster jaded dragons and erase evil emperors. She molded with white starch pressed gloves, drafted pixie princes from her shining knights of Camelot and splashed evil stepsisters with turpentine, washing tints to shades that blended brown. Mother rendered fantastic canvases shaped my fever-days, Midas touched on springing saffron sunshine mornings. She painted my canvases over layers of goblin tales, billygoats, and wolves, smearing fairy fables into princely balls where glass slippers fit happily ever after.