Visiting grandma smelled like fresh baked cookies,
Cookies I would sneak from the back room freezer.
Her husband found comfort in bottles of vodka,
Vodka hidden behind curtains throughout the house.
Living with my mother felt like indifference,
Indifference I felt in my teen mind of mistrust.
Her several husbands lived in dank bars,
Bars where shoes stuck to floors drunk with beer.
Living my life with my own fresh baked cookies,
Cookies I bake with memories of her surrounding me.
From the back room fridge I grab an ice cold beer,
Beer to relax the body and let the emotions engage.
During my life I have felt fear,
Fear of being out of control.
She would nag him and he would drink,
Drink until he was expressionless and dead.
Life is completely different now,
Now that we’re expected to be invincible.
So I work and I bake and I clean,
Clean out my mind and have yet another drink.
by Phenix JiRa
Written August 4, 2012
Prompt: (from allpoetry)
Gone are the days where girls used
to cook like their mothers.
Now they drink like