Saturday, April 9, 2011

marriage phase four {poem}

the baby's a girl, she's a she
fat hand in mouth, my mouth
our mouths. the cocoon made
same, same, same, same.
mothers can't see you at all.
children don't see you at all.

i remember myself to you.
today is light and wind
flickering leaves against our window.
your eyes follow me
make outline of shadow.

tiny moth, baby butterfly
scream dust and long nights,
suck breast, sluice juice.
i am silenced with motherhood.

your hands are working hands.
they make me.

image richard gray
poem maggie may ethridge
Elizabeth said...

Maggie -- your words are intense and lovely at once, and they speak to me in ways that you probably don't know --

Kristin Hjellegjerde said...


Petit fleur said...


Drax said...

Oh, now that is beautiful.

justmakingourway said...

Very stirring.

Ms. Moon said...

Ay-yi-yi, My God I love this.
Maggie- you write and mother from the same gut-heart-soul-blood-place.

Caroline of Salsa Pie said...

Beautiful, Maggie. I loved this.

jennifer said...

wonderful insight, maggie!

a wild creature said...


Only A Girl said...

This literally made me cry. You are amazing. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to say "yes, that's exactly how it is" over and over and over again.

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