Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
The Lizard Escapes in Grass

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A bodyless tail writhes
in my daughter’s hand.
She can’t unlock her gaze.
Pale, questioning, she looks
to me, then hones her stare--
her body all knives--
she drives her fingernails
into my thigh summoning
blood in five tracks.
I stand burning in that field
then push her hard to the ground
her legs kicking me, fists
pounding, body bucking
until it telescopes closed
into her nine-year-old self.
I hold her chest-to-chest,
her legs around my waist.


Heidi Schulman Greenwald’s poems have appeared online in the ouroboros review and in The Oregonian, The Aurorean, Windfall, Verseweavers, and VoiceCatcher, and have received honors from the Oregon Poetry Association contests. She is currently working on her first manuscript. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and two children.


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