Poems in November 2.

So I'm doing a thing and here is another poem, Memory, by Lucille Clifton.

2.
Ask me to tell how it feels
remembering your mother's face
turned to water under the white
words of the man at the shoe store.

Ask me,
though she tells it better than i do,
not because of her charm
but because it never happened
She says,
no bully salesman swaggering,
no rage, no shame, none of it
ever happened.
I only remember buying you
your first grown up shoes
she smiles.
Ask me how it feels.