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 | December 2011

Animal Crackers

By Amber Momoh

It was nothing but the loads of laundry
I’d been meaning to do for days
piling up

as the rain pummeled down,
and the warmth of our bodies
fogged up the windows

and you thought it was amazing,
so you drew a smiley face
on the glass and said it was me,

and the pride in your accomplishment
was ours to share,
and I made snacks–

animal crackers, raisins, and juice.
And you played with each animal
before then devouring it,

and I climbed the stairs
to put laundry away
as the water from the fresh load ran,

and the cascade of you
into my arms
when I came back

knocked me down.
“I’m a cheetah,” you said
and I loved the feeling of falling.

There was just enough room in my heart
for all of your animals to race
—freely.

1 reply on “Animal Crackers”

Farrah Morriseysays:
January 2, 2012 at 6:56 pm

What love you have for children!

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Your email address will not be published.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

Amber Momoh

Learn More
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Instagram
  • RSS

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