Painting in my room,

I’d taped a piece of paper to the wall
and used my mother’s tole paints
to create a fire all around
a portrait of myself.

I wore sleep boxer shorts
with a Mickey Mouse patch near the hem.

My mother’s black tank top,
it came down right above my belly button.

I felt like a real artist,
my room in shade
against the summer heat.

My mother opened the door
and saw me wearing her clothing.

Your father wouldn’t like that.
Don’t let him see it,
she said before closing the door again.

She wasn’t allowed to wear tank tops either,
but she couldn’t be kept
from buying them.