Lion Claw & Rabid Dog Poem by colleen brennan

Lion Claw & Rabid Dog



Grass opens and unfolds
before it kisses a concrete barge
A baby reaches out
extension of a bird's wings
white bonnet and barely walking
chubby bundle of bliss
mother makes eye contact with me
I smile
she smiles back
continues back to attack
her baby girl with kisses
i wish
my mother's love looked like that
I cringe
the thought is disgustingly uncomfortable
when I think of my mother
affectionate towards me

Out of the six
My mother least likes
being around me

Her mother My Ga
She absolutely adored
every atom of my body
from my head to my feet

"YOU HAVE A VOICE OF AN ANGEL! "
She would lean down and in to tell
the little girl me
6am morning mass.
so I sang louder never to vocally cower
at the critic and the interrogator
playing paddle probably for the day

My mother get embarrassed
from sound of my voice
embarrassed at the sight of my clothes
embarrassed no college degree
She tore down
An entire years worth
"My Senior thesis"
given through
dark room photos
Claws of a lion
rabid dog
In front of all the other parents
SHE Clawed my art
off the wall
ripping the writing of the concentration
I had dedicated an entire
year to this one night
jaws drop
my teacher crying
I took a walk

Lion Claw & Rabid Dog
Sunday, June 2, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: abuse,art,baby,family,high school,mother daughter,teacher
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Senior year of high school. I had created several large school dark room film photography photos....In the background of these photos was a continuous wallpaper of person journal entries.I didn't even invite her! She has done this ripping me by my hair at brownies, she had done this during the end of a soccer practice where she pulled me off the field, she enjoys a torment and twisted game. She would drive out and drop us off in the middle of nowhere -tell us to walk home. Now that my mother has gotten older, she has remained frigid, but has leaned on me for therapy.... and men in her relationships advice... These are the things like learning flash cards or trying to read box car children.... my mom was incredibly angry, impatient, cruel, name calling, and critical for what set the tone for me PTSD
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