C L B l e d s o e LittleNot even the rain has such small hands e.e.cummingsThin skin revealing the bluestveins, cries that pass from desperateto forced; little thing, you, growing, remind me so much of my mother, dying. The way you chatter as if your tongue will stumbleinto words if only you keep it active. The way you flail weak limbsand then latch on to my shirt, my arm,my hand, and then grow still. We foundher wedding dress the day of her funeral and were shocked at how tiny the waist;you, likewise, were so small, each timeyou cried to be burped, changed, fed, we thought: life is so much larger than this. How will you ever grow? CL Bledsoe is the author of the young adult novel Sunlight, three poetry collections, and a short story collection. A poetry chapbook, Goodbye to Noise, is available online from Right Hand Pointing. He blogs at Murder Your Darlings.
Sign in|Report Abuse|Print Page|Remove Access|Powered By Google Sites