7 Days Later- a sonnet

7 Days Later

I wore your clothes for the rest of the week,

even your baggy floral underwear.

I wore your bathrobe, hoping to be clean,

I licked the dirt of all the silverware.

I looked at every possibility

so stop the condolence calls and free meals.

I spoke in sounds, howls, and hostility.

So I ate cherry steams and lemon peels,

quit reading, locked every door behind me.

Slowly, I untied my shoes, not sure yet what to do. Now I spend nights quietly

trying to not remember or forget.

How long can a child be a child without her mother to guide her?

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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