the daughters of

we swept the dust and the purple pebble
under the big carpet, mama,
to chase them away

yes and
we had our wind-up mice
when the friends at the window weren’t so nice,
when it rained,
but they wouldn’t come in,
and our white dresses
wouldn’t go out
but nellie was here

when will i feel better mama?
you say you’ll tell me
when i’m older
you pat my shoulder

there are such wholes
in my throat, mama, there are such
whales
in the sea,
two,
three,

two vases, and me,
four, no more!