I Watched My Mother Paint
I watched my mother paint,
Concealing covertly — but painting.
To cover hate,
From a plate of which she never ate.
I watched her cover over blue and purple
With beige and cream.
I watched a woman too afraid to dream.
I watched her fake a life
She failed to create.
I watched her from below,
Knowing I would never know that blow.
I watched her from right below,
In ways she will never know.