think of my love
as a red glass button
hanging on a threadbare dress
Nothing stirs but the wind that rattles rain gutters and pulls on the hinges of blistered shutters. A pair of boots has been left out on a patio of gray flagstones, the mud still clinging to their heels like forgotten promises.
In the last moments before childbirth, a mother sees how similar her life and her child’s life will be.
The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarried;
Now granite in a granite hill.
All morning I groom you with tiny lovenames.
I am a cat, you are my kitten, cowlicked
Her dreams were artistic,
not caught up in soap operas.
She was creating a new breed
with crayons, storybooks and blind faith.