I have several children, all perfect, with tongues made of soap
and PVA glue running through their veins.
My boys and girls benefit from eating the rainbow.
I iron children twice daily. Creases are the devil’s hoof print.
I am constructed from sticky-back tape, pipe cleaners and clothes pegs.
There are instructions for making me. Look at the appropriate shelves
in reputable stores.
I am fascinated by bunk beds, head lice and cupcakes.
You will only leave the table when I have given you clear instructions.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooSo far I have not.
The school-run is my red carpet.
Yes, you’re right, how do I manage it? Though, I didn’t ask you.
Dreaming is permitted from 7:40 to 8:20 am on Saturdays, Bank Holidays
and on mornings when I will be engaged in healthy outdoor pursuits.
My children’s reward charts are full of glittery stars. I am the Milky Way.
Crying is dirty.
One housepoint! Two if you eat up all your carrots.
I always go off half an hour before my alarm. In the morning I speak
a complex language of bleeps and bell tones.
Chew with your mouth closed. No. Don’t chew at all. Admire the presentation.
Underneath my ribs is a complex weather system of sunshine and showers.
Heat rises from me and blows across the gulf stream of my carefully controlled temper.
oooSometimes I am mist.
Maria Taylor
poemsinwhich.wordpress.com 