Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
Sixth Day

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For Calvin and Erica

His cry sounds the high notes—
oboe or clarinet—this must be what the poets
mean by reedy. I say. I say: Please
listen carefully as all of your options
have changed.

For instance— the neglected hibiscus—offering
without water, a flagrant red-orange blossom.
For awe: Press 1
For exhaustion: Press 2

(Both at once for a chord.)
The flower, the baby—

neither expected so early in the year,
in a February so redolent of spring, magnolias,
in their confusion push forth
furred gray buds. But the hibiscus flower

will drop in a day, unlike the baby,
who wakes to nurse every hour.

Your life will never be the same
I want to tell my daughter but she
knows that and anyway—what life is?
she’d likely ask, or—same as what

Liz Abrams-Morley‘s chapbook, Inventory, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press this summer (preorders being taken now!).  Previous collections include Necessary Turns, Learning to Calculate the Half Life and What Winter Reveals. Online poems and stories have appeared on Literary Mama, and in Innisfree Poetry Journal 7, Apriary, and Verse Wisconsin. Mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, Liz lives, writes, babysits Rebecca, Calvin, and Sarah,  and teaches grown-ups  in Philadelphia, PA, and is a co-founder of Around the Block Writers’ Collaborative.

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