Return to Top of Page
Menu
  • Close
  • About Us
  • Past Issues
  • Contributors
  • Donate
  • Opportunities
  • Staff
  • Submissions
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Search Website
Literary Mama
  • Current Issue
  • Archives
  • Departments
  • Blog

Poetry | November 2008

Mother

By Barbara G. S. Hagerty

Forceful, I’d say,

where you’d say mild or soft.

Molded, soldered, bulleted, spent.

Staked eight legs

on four strong stalks,

with hair, brains, eyes, energy.

Potential. Useful, I’d say,

and don’t underestimate

my body’s camera,

crucible, kiln,

its humid bellows,

light shutters,

capable ovens,

photosynthesis.

I was entered and exited,

I exuded and extruded,

the earth moved through me,

film, magma, flesh.

Genius, I’d call my dirt petticoats,

and beautifully rent,

stamen and husk,

petal and root.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Share This Page

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Email
  • Copy Link

Barbara G. S. Hagerty

Learn More

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Don't miss out on Literary Mama news and updates

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Instagram
  • RSS

© 2022 Literary Mama | Search Site | About Us | Staff | Submissions | Privacy Policy