Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
An Expectant Mother’s Motion Parallax

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For My Daughter

Never eat a corn dog in front of a boy
Unless he's already spotted your friend
Actually, there is no reason
You should even care.

A new lipstick might get you nowhere
But a pocketful of tickets buys glances
Past stubs and cups. Make curfew minus
Mashed potatoes in your pants (like her and her);

He'll say You're the kind we marry.

Tricia Louvar has the best of both worlds — a son and a daughter. Her essays and poetry have appeared in the Los Angeles Times, Orion, Zyzzyva, XCP: Streetnotes, among other journals, books, and periodicals.

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