Each month, write a new collection.
We have no mink collared middle classOn the streets We have working women in pants We have PTSD sailors returning homeShell shocked from war.My mother owned a mink coatShe wasn’t rich or poor.But the mink came out of the closetWhen she needed to feel like Lucille Ball.(I gave this a go this last night, but was surprised how it was hard to get in the groove for this picture. I found just so much going on in. On one hand I wanted to write about my mother and her very special mink coat she would take out of its storage every winter, but then there were so many other stories...)
I love it though. You really captured an emotion here. PTSD sailors is a brilliant line.
The Subtle HintThere's a bustle of peoplecoming and goingwith appointments to keepand errands to runthe streets are clamberingthe cops are patrollingand everyone seems at peaceBut under the bustleis a river so subtleof emptiness and life that's not freethe smiles are all missingthere's no trace of joyand the shoulders all seem to be carrying too heavy a loadWhere are the dreamers? the schemers, inventorswhere are the chance takers? Even the sun is vacant in the skyit seems to have passed this pace byand nobody has time to noticeIf only someone would break outbe exceptional and pass it onthen one by onethe frowns would slip awaythe sun would come backand so would the joy
Great work Molly. I'm going to miss your work this month!!