Eleven, Paying with her Allowance

Hips cocked with assurance
she'll get what she deserves --
all of it good, all exact, some shiny,
she waits, hand open for change.

I watch for a fissure in her silence,
a glimpse of the woman hidden from words
then camouflage my worry with a stare
out the window, remembering her

delight over butterfly-dusted roses,
my girl who cannot imagine
the cost of all she wants.
2003 Julie Damerell

More Poetry

Not a River, the Tears
In Your Absence

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