Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood


I knocked into the corners
of the hallway
a narrow envelope
a slipping pit

I birthed a milky clump,
a marble with fur

No judge sat to tell me
that I would pass up daytime
to leap from night to night

The dead,
arm in arm,
carry me by the throat

Each year
the children use me
as a stepping stone

Katherine Glatter earned a BA in English from Kent State University and later worked as a massage therapist in Kent, Ohio, for many years. She moved to Western Massachusetts in 2000 to become a teacher of the Alexander Technique. She has had poems appear in qarrtsiluni and Vox Poetica. She lives in Amherst, Massachusetts with her husband and two teenage daughters, reads poetry out loud when possible, and occasionally blogs at Twinkly Sparkles.

More from

"A marble with fur"...the last stanza...amazing.
I agree, that last stanza is amazing.
Dear Kr is Underwood and Ann R-- Thank you for your comments. It's great to know readers are responding to my poem. It is a thrill to see it published here. Thanks, Katherine
tight, each word counts for something
Comments are now closed for this piece.