Bring me a different history,
a past that doesn’t continue
to rot today, a bad apple
at the bottom of the bowl.
A mother who smiled when
I was born, and daily thereafter.
A father who could praise
as well as criticize.
Friends who didn’t lie or betray,
or throw me over for someone else
like last year’s doll.
Boyfriends who didn’t use and abuse.
Husbands who weren’t indifferent,
children who knew I too was born.