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Poetry :: The Mason Dixon

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08 . 28 . 2003

EDIT 1 - original below

She was a little girl not too long ago.
She played with dolls and danced in the rooms
of her family's small, wounded home,
just passed the Mason Dixon.

On hot Virginia days she rode her bike,
two wheels used to get away,
and hide at the neighbor's place,
a soldier seceding from the Union.

She stole her mother's cigarettes
and smoked up with the other kids,
laughing when they coughed in fits
and lighting one butt after the other.

She packed her poor man's bags
In all the bad girl ways.
But there was nowhere for her heart to go,
So she stayed put, a raven in a cage.

Then one day she had a little girl,
the great rebellion gone awry.
Though her nose was still in books,
her heart grew wings, broke the lock.

She worked hard without perk or fringe
and brought late night Slurpies for her little one.
She learned to type, played with computers,
and gave up her twenty-something time.

The men were few and far,
but some were worth the while.
Vagabond boyfriends can't be kept,
so they left for grasses more green.

They moved around in the latter days,
gypsies looking for a place to call their own.
A quaint Yankee village made them welcome
and they learned to love the six-month snows.

When the little girl grew up,
she found a knight, almost shining,
and had a little girl of her own,
a tiny pink lady with ancient blue eyes.

Now she sees her mother in a new light
and the "whys" and "how-comes" no longer matter.
Her mother is now someone's grandmother
who plays on floors and dresses Barbie in smiles.

The cage has long since rusted
in waters of salt and sweat, running thick.
and the raven's wings are full and well worked.
She's been flying on her own for years.

***
original

Mommy was a little girl not too long ago.
She played with dolls and danced in the living room
Of her family's small unhappy home,
Just passed the Mason Dixon.

Everyday she rode her bike,
Two wheels used to get away,
And hide at the neighbor's place
When she could no longer stomach the fight.

She stole her mother's cigarettes
And smoked up with the other kids,
Laughing when they coughed in fits
And lighting one butt after the other.

She ran far away from home
In so many different ways.
But there was never anywhere to go,
So she stayed put in her angry cage.

Then Mommy had a little girl
When her nose was still in books.
Night school and midnight feedings
Take a toll when your just seventeen.

Mommy worked hard at many jobs,
Though she never went to college.
The little girl stayed up late at night,
Waiting for Mommy to come home.

They lived in different places.
The men walked in and out of their lives.
They finally stayed in a quaint, snowy village,
Far away from the Mason Dixon.

Then the little girl grew up
And had a little girl of her own.
Now she knows what it is to be a mother,
And now she understands.