All Grown Up
I just wanted to say that I think I’m kind of sorry.
When you left
with your shiny briefcase and Monday reports
to catch that last flight to ten thousand miles away I was waiting for your phone calls
and your good-nights and tuck-ins
and your help with homework.
Instead I got ten days a year.
I stretched five inches
broke out a field of acne
rolled my ankle trying to walk in heels fell off the roof of the house
(don’t worry, it wasn’t serious)
and crashed Mum’s car.
Yesterday you brought me a doll
with pink lips tattooed into a parabola a lifetime-long dress suspended
over plastic skin
and two motionless feet
starched curls wrestled into pigtails.
I just wanted to say that it’s not your fault.
Barbie looks better under the tyres anyway.
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Comments about this poem (All Grown Up by Calista Fung )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(1498 - 1546)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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