Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
Wild Flower or Faded Wreath

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The morning clouds in valley, still,
rain over the mountain peaks.
A dead fox roadside and crows gather

home, like my dead: clung to me as
this wet wool, damp from garden run.
This has happened before; on the hall

table: the flower vase, new again--
which holds whatever is placed within
it with equal, tender balance.

Yet I cannot help but see womb;
see mother: cream and bottom heavy, berthed
in place, at the stations of the house:

stove, sink, washroom, judge of content
and by content. Mother: standing with arms
outstretched, our sheets on the linen line

bleached, sun-fresh and winding.

Italicized text from Jane Hirshfield, "Between the Material World and the World of Feeling," After (New York: Harper Perennial, 2006).



Dorinda Wegener’s poems have appeared in The Antioch Review, Indiana Review, Hotel Amerika, Mid-American Review, and online at Sou’wester and Radius. Walter E. Butts, New Hampshire Poet Laureate, selected Wegener for New Hampshire Poets Showcase, an online gallery hosted by the New Hampshire State Council on the Arts. She currently resides in New York City with her husband and daughter.


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Ooof! Wonderful. :)
Just beautiful, Dorinda, truly. So glad you are still able to hold down "literary" despite the challenges of being "mama."
Wow, Dorinda. This is very powerful. I get such a sense of the heft of home and mother.
This is so lovely, Dorinda! Thank you for this poem.
great poem lovely words. mamma Be well, Preston
Beautiful work--I like the lines about the vase the best.
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