Momma was built like skyscrapers
every morning we took cranes up
to gaze out her cerulean eyes
wipe the dirt of last night festivities
from her brown skin
we pulled curtain clouds from her windows—
Momma was too afraid
to let the world gaze into
her 18 floors of gilded cages
Momma was a skyscraper afraid of heights
men chipped away at her ground level
she fell to meet them
so they could wrap their arms around her
shattering her light blue glass
Momma was built like a skyscraper
treated like an old man apartment
too many people knocked on her door
never entered never tried to wipe
the rustic paint off her cracked walls
Momma never believed she was built
to be a skyscraper
