Melissa Benton Barker
You true believers
Who plant corn in March
chipped & rippled with
A word in my son’s mouth
Some days I don’t know myself from me,
I’ve been abducted by aliens
In the driveway, this newly formed nebula,
into swirls and wisps.
Time shifts like water
I find myself driving our mazy streets,
the wheel I am too tired to grip.
Oh, come lay your hands upon him,
Red and lovely, scared
Beneath the red smock she wore like a gown
We publish poetry that has some element of the unexpected–whether it’s the language, the imagery, or the emotion—yet feels honest. Do you have a poem that acknowledges the intensity of motherhood? Read more about submitting your work here.