mother
chilidish things
Another in the series of “where a poem comes from.” I was walking in a bookstore when the phrase, “we always believed that she could fly” came into my mind, loudly. That night, a poem arose. The details are from my mother’s memorial….
maybe it began
maybe it began maybe it began as a small room in a small house, a blue spread on a bed, a wooden dresser a window, a rug on a wooden floor. home, the place of origin, a place to be from — going out and coming back and going out again. did such … Read more