Poem, snippets and essays of my life

Tag: old times

  • My Mother’s Hair

    My Mother’s Hair

    My Mother’s Hair My mother’s hair always escaped from under her red kerchief or the hairspray lacquered on  for control and the hair often went dancing in a night club in Manhattan even when she was in labor with one of us. You can’t control wildness. My mother lay, legs askew, baby coming, never having…

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