He is not there but You know you are tasting together The winter, or a light spring weather. His hand to take your hand is overmuch. Too much too bea… - Gwendolyn Brooks

Small Mabel whimpered all night long,
For calling herself the cause.
Her oak-eyed mother did no thing
But change the bloody gauze.

To say yes is to die
A lot or a little.

Since a man must bring
To music what his mother spanked him for
When he was two: bits of forgotten hate,
Devotion: whether or not his mattress hurts:
The little dream his father humored: the thing
His sister did for money: what he ate
For breakfast — and for dinner twenty years
Ago last autumn: all his skipped desserts.