By: Ashley Honey

Hair up

Tarp down


My mother uses her strength to cradle

Our liquid gold

Douses the pan with potential energy

And snaps the blade to its wand

The brush crackles and crinkles


She slaps more gold on the canvas

Drowns out the cries and begs

Until we are met with silence

The new vibe of our humble abode

Warms my soul

With hope

The new yellow walls have never witnessed

Tear-streaked cheeks

They are new

Like us