Monday, February 06, 2006

Wild-Assed Guess

I wrote this poem for a friend of mine who grew up in what most of us would consider unusual circumstances. She likes to tease me about my discomfort with the label "white trash," which is how she describes her childhood.

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I picture you running
through pine needles and moss
shouting back with hands on hips
and attitude all over that face
that face you show
and hide from us.
That hand so quick to clamp
over your mouth because
that was so not what you meant
and we laugh with you (no really)
with that infectious life
that you inspire.
This big heart of yours
that holds all of us within
I wonder where you found it
where it sprouted and grew.
If I took a wild-assed guess
I’d say you scooped yourself
out of earth and clay
and molded it with
the wear of your days.

W D Burns
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