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