Ivy, follow me around, whatever

Wind me girdle-tight—like veins to sever

When I hack through with words and palette knive

See you come back so curly—greening alive

Laugh, make it tall, have to be so clever

Fashion—my great-nana in lace and chive

had Myrtle, Gladys-Ivy, farm and hive

Saw we have no endings, never say never                 

Ivy, follow me around

Gladys had my mother, eight kids, boys five

Jocelyn-Ivy raised to be “good”—wive

Got stuck on my dad, children—however        

I want to breathe, not be chastened ever                   

Climb me to the sun, boot me to the low jive

I run to be free, Gypsy Lee forever                           

I-vee, follow me around

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