Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
The Humming

No comments

He calls to say the doctors
don’t know what’s happening to him—
then hangs up, or drops, the phone:
I hear beeps, whirrs, nurses’
hurried footsteps, before all sound stops,
and I’m left alone,
the phone dead in my hand.

After we agree, doctors turn off the machines,
leave our children and me alone in his ICU cubicle,
but it’s not quiet—something still hums:
his tremulous pulse, the mechanical bed—
or something at work in me.
I sit on the window ledge,
watching rain puddle the street.
A woman teeters into view
in bamboo shoes and hat,
like a scroll painting come to life.
When I turn to tell my husband,
the humming has stopped.


Laura Foley is the author of four books of poetry. Her most recent collection, Joy Street, won the Bi-Writer’s Book Award in Poetry. Her third collection, The Glass Tree, won the Foreword Book of the Year Award, Silver. Her poems can be found online at many websites including: Valparaiso Poetry Review, Buddhist Poetry Review, The Good Men Project, and Women’s Voices for Change. She lives in the hills of Vermont with her partner and their three big dogs.


More from



Comments are now closed for this piece.