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Barefoot on Thin Ice


The little girl
The little girl
With hands on
Hips to be
And the granny
Who can drink
Beer with breakfast
Because she is mother superior
And mistress of the trailer.
They have dreamed it all
And watched
Dreams come true
Sideways.
War of the phases....
The little one
Shuts off the TV
To live.
The mistress cracks a wry smile
And thinks back
To her babies
Knowing
That they were her
Before she was.
Her baseball glove is old,
Fat and thick,
Cracking,
But alive with the scents
Of husband and cats
Departed.
Out of the closet
Under the sink
And out the door
With the respect
For self
That only a great granddaughter
Could grant
And one last crack
Of the bat.
The little one winds up
With a torn ball
A little spit
Her ultimate game face
And tries to stare down the batter.
 
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