Chances Are

Dear Luke, You turned four this week.  I still remember how I cried when the midwives placed you on my chest, cried out of relief that you were alive, outside of my body. No more worries about food, medication, miscarriage, premature birth. No more poking my belly to wake you up, just so your indignant … Continue reading Chances Are

Jesus and Dirty Noses: A Poem

Holding back a recoil ⠀⠀ at stale scent of saliva⠀⠀ I wipe away snot streams⠀⠀ Scour the toilet over her cries ⠀⠀ Press my face against brown curls a little longer⠀⠀ Hustle next to scrub the shower⠀⠀ Before baby hands find their way in⠀⠀ Again.⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ I say I love you.⠀⠀ Later⠀⠀ I hiss first … Continue reading Jesus and Dirty Noses: A Poem