Recording my motherhood

These are ripe tree years! Full,
so full, round, lush, sweet
today I am sitting beneath the branches
ready to eat, ready to be called,
- the dancing, the music, the continual costumes
the sounds that are us,
yes, under this weight I am silent

see, here, my handwriting
on the page like a window smudged
I leave these thoughts that flutter and escape
a loose hose, full blast, explaining, telling
our story, the lines leaning like
a highway to the memories that make our life
the sum of who we are, of who they are becoming
and me their mother.

Oh, write! in this shade
before they go, before they go

(to be read slowly)
(in progress)


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