Poem #5 for the November Poem-A-Day challenge.
The Second Pig Was A Bad Carpenter
My mother bought my clothes until
I went to college. On my own, I still
avoided sex and held to old rules.
Out west I changed my hair, sharpened tools
began to build a stronger frame
on which to hang new hopes, a new name.
I have repainted this house so many
times I can’t recall which color, if any
lies at its heart, its core.
So I add another layer, then one more.
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