Mom’s pink lace panties on the drying rack, white flag of surrender.
Writing by Hana Damon-Tollenaere
Assemblage Art by Ingrid M. Calderón Collins, Featured Artist for Mum’s Garage II
Mom’s pink lace panties on the drying rack White flag of surrender
When you grow up like us
Every last scrap of information
Can be a clue, a warning
You go insane searching for them, thinking If only I’d payed attention better
I’d have seen it coming
I’d have been able to stop it
But peace treaties made in the night
Are never safe in the harsh light of day In the kind of love I know
After the fucking always comes the fighting Twin planets orbiting the same dark star Maybe that’s why I
Like fucking slowly so much
I want to draw it out, savor every last drop Suck every little bit of happiness I can from it Because once it’s over, I know what’s coming next
My mom is not a pink lace thong kind of girl Which begs the question
Had they even fucked?
Or has he been so catatonic this week that She’s had to do everything
And ran out of time for her own laundry And had to wear those frilly pink panties Because they were the last ones in her drawer And did they mock her with their scratchy lace Saying look what you do for him that he Can never do for you
About The Author
Hana Damon-Tollenaere is a 21-year-old writer, studying biology in Santa Barbara, CA. She lives with her girlfriend, also a writer, and is the proud step-mommy of two frogs, two snakes, and one gecko. She has been too shy to ever submit poetry for publication before this year, but her one writing claim-to-fame is that as a teenager, one of her poems won a gold key and then a gold medal in the Scholastic National Art & Writing Awards. She is currently working on her first full-length volume of poetry.