Monday, May 19, 2008

Sixteen

For readwritepoem

He doesn’t care
about your blue, silk dress
embellished with flowers
or all the hours you spent
on your makeup.
He doesn’t care
about your heart
of bone china –
it is soft sand
between his fingers.

You love baseball now
and classic rock.
You love his shaggy hair.
Life is beautiful.

He loves too.
He loves the pink
between your thighs.

I wish I could
save you from him.

13 comments:

Jessica said...

Love the central metaphor of this piece! Good job!

Crafty Green Poet said...

you captured the situation really well. Excellent.

Scot said...

I have three daughters and I said the same thing to them--only not as well

Linda Jacobs said...

Been there! Raising a teenage daughter is so scary! I'm glad she's grown up now, but I have a granddaughter! Yikes! It never ends.

artpredator said...

sad and true...

reginaclarejane said...

This was an amazing and heartfelt poem... bravo.

TOCCO said...

Well said.

Jo said...

Yes, you did a good job here, I especially like the juxtaposition of male/female viewpoints. Great imagery.

Jan said...

great ending to an interesting piece! i know the feeling...having raised a daughter. now, what is a mother to think about when her son is that age? (which mine is nearing!). eek!

durable pigments said...

I'm really feeling the uncertainty and precariousness here. "Young love" is such a misnomer. Attraction, lust, curiosity... more rarely love, but so enthusiastically, unquestioningly accepted as such (says the thirty-something, who remembers it all too well).

Mad Kane said...

Very well done!

Calder said...

Lovely writing with great images too and I am right there with you on this topic. I just posted a similar piece on my blog a week ago.

Enjoyed reading your blog.

Smiles!

Anonymous said...

This poem needs to be in the back pack of every middle and high school girl! It is a truth, for sure. Wonderfully written!!!
Mama Lisa