To my mother and to the mothers of all the girls in my life

Footnote on Childhood

by Celeste Zeta Montalban

Coveting some pies the child

Climbed on Mother's cupboard

When eight

Broke the vase, one day in June.

Whip was raised awakening pain

Deeper than the fragile skin.

Many glasses

Are broken in youth

The ego needs a constant

Restructuring.

Bits of glass pieces

Remind wounded conscience

Some instances of an imbedded

Piece in stubborn bare feet

A hurricane somewhere is

Badly needed to siphon

Off permanent tortures.

Hurts in youth

Should be constantly guarded

For saneness in the old.

from An Isolation/Poems

Pic from mudspice.wordpress.com