Poetmother In Rags At The Doors Of Ikea Poem by Douglas Scotney
Poetmother In Rags At The Doors Of Ikea
My daughter lives in there.
There's no way I could stay:
Look at what I'm wearing,
Even though I gave my daughter.
You see all my sin.
No way could I fit in.
But still,
I have given daughter,
So stand aside!
I will not be denied
A little look inside
What I've given daughter.
Friday, September 7, 2012
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4/25/2024 9:43:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A good write of retail social stratification and aspirants socio economic status realising segregation. An ancient and enduring circumstance.