Poetry sometimes speaks right to your marrow in a way other words don't; it's like music or a fragrance.
These lines are an excerpt from "give 'em hell, iskwew," a poem by Samantha Nock in her collection A Family of Dreamers (thanks always to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
radiantfracture for introducing me to Samantha Nock's poetry)
in kokum's purse she has the same shade of red
lipstick that mom wears
she applies a heavy layer
and kisses a tissue to blot
places it back into her bag.
red lips left like a fingerprint.
Lori, i think kokum has room
in her purse for all of us.
These lines are an excerpt from "give 'em hell, iskwew," a poem by Samantha Nock in her collection A Family of Dreamers (thanks always to
radiantfracture for introducing me to Samantha Nock's poetry)in kokum's purse she has the same shade of red
lipstick that mom wears
she applies a heavy layer
and kisses a tissue to blot
places it back into her bag.
red lips left like a fingerprint.
Lori, i think kokum has room
in her purse for all of us.
