image by joel kellner
granddaughter, rylee joy
Morning
First, she chatters, makes raspberries,
and finally cries in her crib; I can hear it
through the walls, even without the monitor.
I stumble through the cold, change her
diaper, get her dressed, and heat a bottle
to feed her sitting in my lap, eyes closed.
The morning is all silence and warmth, then.
* * *
Maria Told Her To.
For the baby, she bakes organic chicken,
organic vegetables, homemade
fruit juice cut with distilled water.
She puts things – not necessarily toys –
in boxes, to be emptied, to be arranged,
to be returned and put away.
And when it’s outgrown, she ships it to friends to start again.
* * *
C.L. Bledsoe
Posted over on his site Murder Your Darlings
No comments:
Post a Comment