The Love She Keeps

But what is this I am seeing in her:

Scraggle screaming its way out of her head?

Bleach stains on her shirt where colors have bled?

If not her stout torso top maimed femurs

That wheel-chairs homeless through jungle plunder

Living the life that mother proclaimed dead,

When mother did lie to asylum heads;

Than what is this I am seeing in her

Fifty years later while daughter dismisses

The existence that rolls in antithesis

Through districts where violence and junkies creep

Starved, beat down; defamed and maimed by street disses?

What is it I see in her, through all this?

I see enduring eyes that love themselves deep.

I see enduring eyes that love themselves deep.

That there dadeo is the love that she keeps!

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