ten years of apple sweet diapers
taking up space
crammed birthday beds
clamouring for a breast
the racket must have silenced parades, pundits
did you feel the whispers from the pavement
pressed with thousands
you rocked the house instead
the church
the schools
the city is still singing
you missed your toes five times over
built tall people, ideas
colour on the plate
straight spines
music in the walls
fair not equal
in the photos your face is unpinched
your pretty clothes stitched
style mocking the swollen belly
your smile radiates through all my dreams
burning hope
she’s got get-up-and-go
I can still hear the metronome ticking
as I brush my teeth in time.
from Holding Glass
copyright © Anne Langford
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!
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