Tangerine Trip ran a very tight ship.
She trapped all her children like imperial gems.
In busy work days, she dazzled and dazed,
came home unamused, ego battered and bruised.
In busy weekends, her heart it would rend
to the tune of manic mirthful tender typhoons.
Tangerine Trip ran a very tight ship
staffed with squat child therapists and little baby analysts. When the sea shook and swelled, she handled it well,
but in calm waters after she skirted disaster.
she dwelled in the depths of the hate in her head,
and blamed all her pain on familiar names.
Tangerine Trip ran a very tight ship,
til’ the stormiest days broke to fragile malaise.
her oldest (who loved her) and remembered their mother
as the woman she was, not the probable cause,
weathered her storms out of hope for reform.
but left her one morn for a stormier port.
Tangerine Trip ran a very tight ship
through the sea of lost hope she weathered alone.