mama put syrup on the table,
she don’t pour it.
i used ta say
“good mornin, mama.”
“go wash your hands.”
i used ta say,
“i’m gonna be a big star, mama!”
“you ain’t wearin that to school.”
sometimes, i thought
mama hates me…she just do,
with that cold ole heart o’ hers.
then she set a plate in front of me without a word–