Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
At Chess Camp Picking Up My Daughter

No comments

It feels warm
and safe inside the dark church
full of rushing
winners, slow walking
losers. And the parents
less rumpled than me
who sit in the back
resting their legs.
The boy who does cartwheels
all the way to the altar
has won fourth place
in the beginners

The kids are rushing out now
into the fog
like a scattering of pigeons.
They smile at me
as if I were
one of the strong pieces.
Perhaps tonight
the pain that keeps me
away from the living
will corner the Black Queen.

Meg Pokrass lives in San Francisco. Her poetry and stories have appeared in The Emrys Foundation Journal, Two Twenty Four Poetry Quarterly, Black Buzzard Review, Flutter, The Orange Room Review, Halfway Down the Stairs, 971 MENU, and Toasted Cheese. She has performed with theatre companies throughout the United States and considers writing a natural extension of Sensory work developed as an actor.

More from

Comments are now closed for this piece.