Sheffer 6 15

She rises every morning forgetting who she miffs
the thrall of new, more to withdraw at the ATM
there will be someone handing her a towel to sop
sauce from tiles for the starving children in India
if only we would help and hike them up, headstart
them there. Leave your shoes by her door or mar
this lovely fir under shag all those years as she ate
silently for fear of yelling, before the sitting in
at school. Sleek as a race horse, silky hair, to trot
out slogans, gorp, earth mother of counterculture
drudge for a cause, MS. Magazine to Mothering
she sings alto with Martha and the Good Things
Upstairs is where they locked the crazy women
or piled them, cord wood, on the fainting couch
but now she keeps her power and uses it on you
here comes another jingle jangle of her bangle
at your door. Are you finding any of this eerie?
There's more to creep you out than UFO's.
How will they dress us next? I'm sick of uplift
what did she love before she brought us ill?