Paint me without a soul
a pair of hands to
sew on buttons
mend a jacket
bake birthday cakes
and Christmas cookies
Paint me without a face
a pair of feet to
walk a baby in the night
a five-year-old to kindergarten
the laundry up and down stairs
dinner to the table
the dirty dishes to the kitchen
Paint me without a soul
a womb to hold a child
a vagina to give him pleasure
arms and breast to offer comfort
a lap
Paint me without a face
like the woman who lies
in the cemetery in Wichita, Kansas
Over her grave
A bench inscribed “MOTHER”
bearer of eternal burdens
Author Bio:
A writer living in Tucson, Arizona. Mother and now grandmother. In the spare moments between changing diapers and driving kids to play practice I earned a BA and an MFA from Wichita, Kansas. It took twenty-two years to earn the two degrees. Now I live alone with only one very spoiled dog--old habits die hard. Finally have time for me and for writing.
a pair of hands to
sew on buttons
mend a jacket
bake birthday cakes
and Christmas cookies
Paint me without a face
a pair of feet to
walk a baby in the night
a five-year-old to kindergarten
the laundry up and down stairs
dinner to the table
the dirty dishes to the kitchen
Paint me without a soul
a womb to hold a child
a vagina to give him pleasure
arms and breast to offer comfort
a lap
Paint me without a face
like the woman who lies
in the cemetery in Wichita, Kansas
Over her grave
A bench inscribed “MOTHER”
bearer of eternal burdens
Author Bio:
A writer living in Tucson, Arizona. Mother and now grandmother. In the spare moments between changing diapers and driving kids to play practice I earned a BA and an MFA from Wichita, Kansas. It took twenty-two years to earn the two degrees. Now I live alone with only one very spoiled dog--old habits die hard. Finally have time for me and for writing.
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