Category Archives: motherhood

Learning to Ride

I know that there were hands behind me like a scaffold to be sewn into the mind for future use in middle age, supporting the crooked back of motherhood, to let them fall, to have them ride. and it was … Continue reading

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The Mirror

for my son, age 7 Growing into himself too quickly he questions the composition of his face positions his eyes slightly closer together as if an acute pose will make the mirror aware of his inevitable manhood tight with time, … Continue reading

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My Daughter (Age 7)

She is like her grandmother elegant and precise in style, overdrawing hair and flaunting her inherited mannerisms every morning a new show, a cautious and a refined display of courage. This child has clear common sense, perceiving every day as … Continue reading

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Hero

I cannot honor lies. I cannot breathe praises of death. I cannot take limbs like those sold to children. I am mother. You are plastic in words. We birth babies. They are flesh, tears, needs, innocent hearts. We have limbs. … Continue reading

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Breakfast with My Son (Age 10)

I watch him, too. How are you life all on your own? Where the water breaks and the light enters. What a curious misunderstanding of the meaning of justice and warmth. I have given you place here. Let me watch … Continue reading

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The Joining of Blood and Fire

I can write you in red to celebrate the season of my birth, your fire and paint you in rain, your storm and join you in blood and rage, grow as I do, I remember much, some days I remember … Continue reading

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The Guilt of Peaches

I felt today that I take for granted what reappears in tradition in appeasement in the fruit fields on the opening of August in succulent flavor in the orange, translucent light (after a bite) these are things that live again … Continue reading

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