
You Mother the Sad Thought
of what was,
draw circles counterclockwise /
worry the body is / weight
dessert / just ice.
And the dead shouldn’t
circle its breaking.
But you were born with superstitions
in the gift shop / of / personality
change / not your mistake.
And your body will never be still
in the memory of your parents’ home—
father building basement walls
teaches you, his last daughter, to paint
thin layers with each coat,
ration the paint as if your life depended
on each stroke of color saved
/ to position
a nail like a flagpole,
steady / straight,
fear of missing the small, silver target
unable / to
not wanting to /
build away
an attic crawlspace: a safe gap
for a little girl before sorrow
metastasized.
by Theresa Senato Edwards, first published at SWWIM, from Becoming Couldn’t Sing for Anyone (Small Harbor Publishing, 2022)
Cover Art by Kelly Edwards
buy link: https://www.amazon.com/Becoming-Couldnt-Anyone-Theresa-Edwards/dp/1957248076/
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