Jennifer Davis Michael
His first cry came: a thin pale blue
Because you stayed silent you took
May you never know the heartache
Track marks from you grew over the globe
Heidi Lynn Nilsson
You were the size of an orange seed
to see on an ultrasound.
as the steps of birds over snow
then cramps and large
for days, blooming in the toilet bowl
Today my body does not want to write poetry.
Leta Rebecca Cunningham
if i have a daughter,
if she is anything like me—
“I want her back when you’re done.”
Her name will be Victoria. Blond hair and pointy chin and please
Blood test. Missing chromosome. Likely to miscarry.
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.