The Thirtheenth Month
by Usha Akella
When you were not quite three months old,
Your hair straight as a drizzle,
With the deep knowing of a mother I said,
"She will have curly hair."
Twelve months streamed by. Then.
We awoke to step into a wood of riotous curls...
Continue reading The Thirteenth Month |
Firstborn
by Candace Black
Outside, wind sings to itself.
Daughter, you are too young
to distinguish that sound
from all others and so you sleep,
nested between the mountain
range of father and curved wall of breast...
Continue readingFirstborn
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Here and Now
by Ann Camanella
There is a sense of unrealness,
not just that you’re here,
but that you came pushing through,
wet and urgent, tiny lungs gulping,
chest sinking and expanding
as you cried for the mother country...
Continue reading Here and Now |
Late February
By Martha Christina
We idle behind the muddied
school bus; its tail lights flash
and fade and flash
as my son's classmates
jump from the bottom step
into the dirty snow. Bonzai,
one yells. Another: Kawabanga...
Continue reading Late February |
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Empty Tennis Shoes
By Sarah Fechter
Scuffed and worn, size ten tennis shoes
rest like used potter's molds
beside the den sofa where he'd
shed them before lifting
long, strong legs off the floor.
Continue reading Empty Tennis Shoes
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Sore Throat
by Maureen Tolman Flannery
He brings the first unease in his throat to me for healing.
Despite old mock disdain for their strangeness,
he defers to his mother’s cures...
Continue reading Sore Throat |
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Sophia at Fifteen Months
by E. Laura Golberg
Sophia knows
life is hard
and arbitrary.
Big sister
will push
her small form
from the favorite chair
or off her new-found
upright balance...
Continue reading Sophia at Fifteen Months |
To December
by Ann Lesley Hamvas
Three more months and I will meet you,
the pain in my back and tickling
in my belly, the reason I hate chicken
and chocolate and love gummy bears
and watermelon...
Continue reading To December |
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Smaller Portions
By Jacqueline Jules
On winter afternoons,
back when you skipped
through the kitchen
on shoes smaller than my hand,
we sipped cocoa with cookies
chatting about our days
filled with a black kitty cat,
CandyLand, Legos, laundry,
and morning trips to the grocery store...
Continue reading Smaller Portions |
Mother Summer
by Carie Novikoff
I try not to die in the summer
burning caffeinated holes in my stomach
buried beneath bowls
in the sink caked on cheese
cereal and tomato...
Continue reading Mother Summer |
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Isaac
by Sue O'Doherty
Call me Sarah—Not quite four score and ten,
But feeling it, after
A hard day at the office,
Or waiting for another plane;...
Continue reading Isaac |
Rocking
by Kris Underwood
Asleep-
You lay heavy
In my arms
Breathing steadily...
Continue reading Rocking |
