Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
His mother

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watches him from across
the room with wide eyes
as steady as a movie camera,

flat ears tuning in to a frequency
only a mother can hear,
listening for pending danger:

a cough, uneven breath,
the sound of glass breaking
or strange footsteps on the stairs,

lips parted as if the right words
lie frozen on the tip of her tongue
like the icicles on the porch.

Although she watches his wardrobe
change as he stretches from
twenty inches to six foot three,

his mother always wears her red
silk dress with white pearls and
two-inch-high platform heels,

and her hands, which remain by her side
and out of the sun and soapy water, remain
as soft as when she held him that one time.


Sharon Waller Knutson is a retired journalist who lives in Arizona where she writes poetry, hikes, and takes photographs of wildlife out of her picture window in her earth home, built by her musician husband. She has four grown children, ten grandchildren, and two great grandchildren. Her chapbook, Dancing with a Scorpion, was published by Moon Journal Press in 2006. Her poems have also appeared in Orange Room Review.


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