Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
Green Bones

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Soft green bones
of growing things
are easily distorted.
She runs through open doors,
can't help herself,
she's a horse,
jumping flower-bed fences.

Come in! I yell
balancing milk bottles.

She stands steaming
kicking her hooves
as I wrestle her
into her uniform.


Rebecca Rogan’s poems have appeared in Poetry Ireland Review, IOTA, HU, Cobweb, and Kent Connections. Born in England, she spent several years living in Ireland with her husband and daughter. She currently lives in Westchester County, New York, and is president of the Katonah Poetry Series planning committee.


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This is lovely. Soft green bones...an enviable line! It's really great how all of the poems for today converse.
I read this poem on the last day of spring when "soft green bones" were all about and I was delighted by it.
Rebecca, this is so lovely, and reminds me right away of my granddaughter, Laurel. She's 11 and is on the cusp of being a different child, but your image of the girl who "stands steaming/kicking her hooves" will stay with me, and will always be Laurel. And the phrase, "Soft green bones." Thank you for sharing this will all ov us.
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