Black Boots, Sheer Tops
There’s this mom at my kid’s school
who really looks like she knows
her way around a cock.
I see her at drop off every morning.
She’s a tough cookie, a dream maker.
She has her hair and nails done
every Friday and knows a thing or two
about the heat of the night.
She used to do Kamikaze shots
and flash her tits in Daytona.
She has a husband
with a skull & bones tattoo
he got at a country fair
when he was 13.
On Saturdays she plays Keno
and drinks Scorpion Bowls,
steals eyeliner
from the drugstore,
rummages through her friends’
medicine cabinets.
Her cesarean scars are long
and toothy and puckered like
bent bottle caps.
She has an RV
at Lake Winnipesaukee
and a closet hung
with waist-cinched
leotards and leather jackets.
Black boots, sheer tops.
Mark Twain said to
write what you know
and I know these types of women.
I went to school with them
I dated them
hell,
my Mother
was one of them.
Damon Hubbs is a poet from New England. His latest collection, Bullet Pudding, is forthcoming from Roadside Press. His poems have been nominated for the Pushcart and Best of the Net. He is a poetry editor at Blood+Honey and The Argyle Literary Magazine.
