miss rosie

when I watch you
wrapped up like garbage
sitting, surrounded by the smell
of too old potato peels or
when I watch you
in your old man’s shoes
with the little toe cut out
sitting, waiting for your mind
like next week’s grocery
i say
when I watch you you
wet brown bag of a woman
who used to be the best-looking gal in Georgia
used to be called the Georgia Rose
i stand up
through your destruction
I stand up.

Lucille Clifton

Categorized as Poetry