Drops of Blood

Drops of blood fall on the table

She puts the needle and fabric down, and puts on a band-aide

Her third one for the night

It’s late

She’s practically seeing double

Stopping isn’t an option

Her daughter needs the dress for her recital in the morning

She’s a mother

Her job is to insure her daughter has all she needs

She’ll be thanked for the dress

Not the time

She looks at the clock, 1:00am

Eight more hours till the recital

Beautiful Girl

I’ve been told I’m a child of God

I’ve also been told I ain’t nothing special

Some days I don’t know who to believe

My birthday’s in a week

I’ll be eight

Mama asks me what I want

She don’t look to happy when I told her I want a pretty blond haired doll

Please. Please. Please.

She takes a big gulp from her coffee mug and sends me to bed

I know she had other ideas and there wasn’t no use trying to get her to change her mind

When my birthday came

Mama got me a book of fairy tales and a doll that looked like me

The doll was pale with bright orange hair and freckles painted on her nose

The orange hair made her look ugly

I was upset and angry until Mama read me the card that came with it.

My sweet Agatha

I made this doll for you, and just like you she’s beautiful in every way.

Your smile brightens my days. Your laughter fills my world with joy.

Go out and spread joy to the world,

Love, Mama