I know these women.
Aged by smoke and
choices of ancestors
long before they were
even a thought.
Each pore, each wrinkle
says it all. Where life has
sunk in refusing to let them
have happy. But here’s
another plate of bullshit
for you to eat. Grab a big
spoon, because this is just
an appetizer.
The entre’ will be served
directly. Eat it all or there
won’t be any dessert. Rarely
is the sweet stuff placed
before you, due to the fact
that it was never on the
menu to begin with.
I’ve learned from their
receipts to always carry
a big spoon, and to never
ask for sprinkles atop
vanilla.
Unless you want to see it
melt from too much
expectation, or that you
allowed yourself to taste
sugar on your tongue.
Yet I always ask hoping
the answers will change.
Cadence Collective: Long Beach Poets 
Wonderful.