Painting by Jim Warren She drank acid to end the pain
that had mother written all over it
in blood and vomit.
The first time it didn’t work.
That suicide wasn’t successful.
Homicidal success easier to achieve
than any other.
She drank Coca-Cola
to finish what she started.
Mary Joy: lovely and smart,
all wasted in a poison womb.
Sixteen summers of malignity,
short periods of happiness pure.
How long before glass breaks
under a hammer’s power?
She broke. She died.
She won’t get up on the third day
intact in pride.
She goes where no mothers
of eternal torment are.
She is joy now.
Sadness was her bliss.
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