Slight re-wwrite of below

Cold Comfort

mornings
cherry red my mother’s lipstick
applied in the review mirror as she honks
in our driveway for my brother and me
to slam our way down the front steps hissing and burping
at each other the trees the robins that destroy
our rest both of us so intent

dreams still hanging like stinking halos
from our collars wrists so intent on the comfort
and darkness under our pillows, comforters,
tucked under mattresses comfortable nothing

the driveway sliding down the hill more each day
winter’s mud pressing against the house shifting
it making the beams unsteady and the doors sleepy
cock-eyed sticking

we vow revenge against the sun the spring the school
everything that demanded we leave our dank spider-covered
comfort but especially against our mother cherry red
every morning itching to get back
to her room all bed kingsized with a hot water bottle
itching to get rid
of us