On Poetry: The Mama Contradiction

The Mama Contradiction

I’m Scratchy eyed,
yet arms fling wide,
I fight not to run and hide,
Your silk cheeks glide,

they give me a notion:
Divine Oxytocin.

I am desperate to stop, to rest
‘sit down’ you suggest
or rather roar,
from your place on the floor.

This is my affliction:
The Mama Contradiction.