Ellen McGrath Smith: My Mother at the Alamo
I would later doubt my mother at the sink, her bruised eye shut, or my mother kneeling
near the orange bucket full of dirty water, ready to snap as drunken rants poured down.
Sandra McPherson: Birth Mother,
19, sunsuit. The shadow . of the Nehi covers her . navel. The orange . in black and white flavors the throat . down to the amnion. Father’s grape . … Continue reading
Andrea Hollander: The Before and the After
At the airport terminal the coarse sound of wheeled suitcases, a toddler giggling, running a few feet beyond his father. A brown-haired woman at the kiosk that sells last-minute … Continue reading
Kate Daniels — The Addict’s Mother: Birth Story
She wasn’t watching when they cut him Out. C-section, you know. Green drape Obscuring the mound of ripened belly They extracted him from. He spilled Out squalling, already starving. Still … Continue reading
Peter Blair: Dying in the Hospital, My Mother Speaks on My Birthday
The only time I had a police escort was your birth. The pains hit 3 minutes apart. I called Dad home. Why didn’t I take a cab? Mrs. Headley asked … Continue reading
