
Threshold
Post-partum That January day I stood as if iced in the greyed winter dawn, behind me, my grandmother waving goodbye to our world, nodding yes toward my newborn, waiting, wordless, for me to carry her across.
Poetry | January/February 2022
By Andrea Potos
Post-partum That January day I stood as if iced in the greyed winter dawn, behind me, my grandmother waving goodbye to our world, nodding yes toward my newborn, waiting, wordless, for me to carry her across.
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1 reply on “Threshold”
beautiful