Mother

by Alexis Groulx

My mother

cries too much.

I want to tell her

men aren’t worth the ruin

of diluted wine or

the $27 mascara

that she waited

three weeks to buy

because it was on sale.

 

Alexis Groulx is a senior at New Hampshire Institute of Art where she studies poetry and prose. Her work has been previously published in Ayris, After the Pause, Gravel, and Vineyards press. She lives in New Hampshire.

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