I like to think my mother fell in love with my father
Gently, like drifting feathers
Rather than careening
Wings clipped,
No longer a teacher
No longer a woman of rolling rocks and skinny dipping in the Poconos
Because those who stay home wear red, steel plated smiles
Because cages have corkscrew curls and baby teeth
She loves us so much, my sister and I
Her split ends that grew and grew
Into the noose around her neck, the nest which trapped her, the home which kept her
Sarah Langer
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