poetry critical

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Seperate Flights
larrylark

Mother had so many names for me.
 1
Unspoken they were always there.
 2
When scathing I got the look,
 3
that pinned me back inside my chair.
 4
Before she spoke I always knew I’d erred.
 5
 
 
We never compared our lists
 6
and paper planes that flew through kitchen vapours
 7
would miss, land far apart, both then and later.
 8

29 Jul 18

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