_______
Sharon Dennis Wyeth
My mother’s back
in navy blue,
in winter white,
or sleeveless gray,
down the stairs,
into the night,
to flee his wrath.
Please come back.
Mother’s back.
We steal away
in rubber boots;
our great escape.
Red gloves bleed.
Sheathed in silver,
mother’s back,
blue splashed roses,
trotting out for fun at last.
Mother’s back,
not quite broke.
