Mrs. Too has a daughter for today
her he-hair thumbs above boys
blotted mannish clown caps yet
her studio sketched lips stay
buttoned by cross hairs;
her daughter hides in open
stalls for cats only come to sit
on her lap while she is pissing
while wondering: How fast and how
much can a woman eat when alone?
(She is) cheeks like shovels full of
flowers standing neck-less and deep
ended by rumpled people for all time.
How fast and how much, determined by deep end proximity. Too… – mh