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

Poetry | May 2010

One Hundred and Two Degrees

By Maria Scala

I remember fevers like this —
nothing to do but
fill journal pages
then hide everything
at the sound of my mother
climbing the creaky stairs
with soup
a Popsicle
whatever I wanted
I never thought
what does it take
to keep humming
as you wash and put away
pot after pot
maybe I caught a hint
of her fury
as I drifted in and out
she pressing down
on the pedal of her Singer
like the gunning of an engine
a machine she refuses to
replace to this day
it’s now for neat yellow bibs
for grandchildren
who can do no wrong.

1 reply on “One Hundred and Two Degrees”

Cassie Premo Steelesays:
May 4, 2010 at 6:18 am

Beautiful! Strong images! Love the undertones of anger and fierceness mixed with tender care.

Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published.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

Share This Page

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Email
  • Copy Link

Maria Scala

Learn More

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Don't miss out on Literary Mama news and updates

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Instagram
  • RSS

© 2023 Literary Mama | Search Site | About Us | Staff | Submissions | Privacy Policy