The Dress My Mother Made

Yesterday, the movie “Precious” premiered in select cities. I have a case of the sads because I no longer live in a “select city.” I miss Chicago … As for the rest of us, we can see the film November 20.

On another note, since I’ve posted two poems, I decided I’d post another I wrote that addresses the issues addressed in the movie and considering the previous post. In the words of E. Badu, “I’m sensitive about my sh*t.”

The Dress My Mother Made

On uncomfortable, itchy couch
Away from the crowd, congregation
Scared, confused, unsure of what minute hands hold
Dressed in handmade plaid dress specially requested white lace trim on collar

Thin legs lie limp as a
Rough, masculine hand finds it way past ashen knees
Up nervous thighs to virgin territory protected by cotton briefs
Caught by pearlized buttons on drop waist dress

Hands epigeal like snake’s belly to ground slide upwards toward
Face of innocence, confusion, bewilderment
Lips trembling while tears threaten to escape
Eyes that have seen too many different sides of the same person
Sweat moistening the dress she’d begged for

Mouth having foul breath and unattended to teeth
Covered hers, twice as small clenched together
Tightly like it would have to be to keep the secret he
Persuaded her they were making
Through no fault of his own untangling his belt buckle from the dress

Shared saliva and the couch
As he, grown man, lay atop
Her, young child, nine years old who vowed silence so
That the trusted would not be shamed
Thick tongue roved in helpless mouth as his drool trickled down her chin onto the
sailor’s collar

Sat erect abruptly, relieved when unpinned by him at the sound of someone’s coming
Panicked by the idea she’d caused this by just being as he suggested
With one hand smoothing out wrinkles, the other
Plaid sleeve soaks up his spit, her tears and their encounter’s details

Invisibly stained forever, never to be worn again


~ by MsInklination on November 7, 2009.

One Response to “The Dress My Mother Made”

  1. This is heavy, powerful. I’m moved to tears right now.

    I’m reminded of the emotions I felt when I first heard that piece “Return to Innocence Lost” by Ursula Rucker on The Roots’ “Things Fall Apart” album.

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