White Sailboat
My daughter reads my
Poems with her eyes closed
Sees our days as thunder
When our family speaks
Their critical, zapping words
Only when passing in her
Dream white sailboat do we speak
Sometimes of proms promising
Nothing but disquieted womanhood
Or around every corner
Her cigarette quickly lit
She is embarrassed by my frilly skirts
Maroon flip flops and sitting alone
Slouched over tea, dry bread
Wishing her on a white sailboat
Dragging islands one at a time
Until strung together
She brings them home, sees
They are like my sheets on the line