Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
Mother

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Forceful, I'd say,

where you'd say mild or soft.

Molded, soldered, bulleted, spent.

Staked eight legs

on four strong stalks,

with hair, brains, eyes, energy.

Potential. Useful, I'd say,

and don't underestimate

my body's camera,

crucible, kiln,

its humid bellows,

light shutters,

capable ovens,

photosynthesis.

I was entered and exited,

I exuded and extruded,

the earth moved through me,

film, magma, flesh.

Genius, I'd call my dirt petticoats,

and beautifully rent,

stamen and husk,

petal and root.


Barbara G.S. Hagerty is a Charleston, South Carolina, mother of four and career freelance writer who has in recent years turned her focus to poetry. Her first chapbook, entitled The Guest House (after a favorite Rumi poem), is forthcoming from Finishing Line Books in 2009. She is also the author of two nonfiction books (Purse Universe; Handbags) that examine the metaphors and cultural meanings inherent in the bags we carry.


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