Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
Primavera, Senior Year

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to Eve

As the languorous calm of winter ends,
enter gardeners, whirling bees–
riotous breakaway
And all the things I wanted to hold onto–
a child's hand, cool as an oboe;
lamplight; reading
by the window
lying in bed with extra pillows,
talking to my daughter, texture
of voices like patent leather
straps overlapping–
begin to loosen. The velvet ear of
close attention has been lost to racier
attractions. She is all hunger and eye,
I on the sidelines.
Go ahead and throw garlands,
untighten, cultivate the longer hours.
Who, just who taught her
to shake the rafters?

Jill Pearlman is a poet and translator based in Providence, RI. For many years, she worked as a music and arts journalist, in the US and France. She writes a blog about art, aesthetics and ecstasy in relation to contemporary politics. Her poetry has been published in Salamander, Crosswinds, Soul-Lit, Amethyst and Frequency Anthology.

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