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Mother´s Day

Mother's Day:
A Time to Celebrate Those
Who Made us Moms

Thank you to IT Words of Womyn 2016 Anthology for
publishing this poem and to Press Women of Texas for awarding
it First Place in Single Verse for 2016. Dedicated, of course, to
the fierce, bright soul that came to me disguised as my son. 


Day 1
Under surveillance, I am
monitored moment by moment.
Beeps, flashes, signs,
green, red and blue lines.
It’s supposed to be:  go, baby, go,
supposed to be 20 hours ago,
but we’re going
my mouth−dry air
my eyes−drift shut

There:  baby in a bin
where did he come from,
this soul ground from mine
and from time, its rhythm
interrupted for this bundle of boy?
Behind dark eyes, his mystery mind
stares at the light. What does he see
when he looks at me?

Day 2
Confused by fever
bewildered after birth, I
do not know the spark in husband’s eye
is for the other woman: man on the run.
He must leave now, says he will go
back to med school, emergency ed class,
must learn
about emergencies.  
 I said, I’m an emergency.
I am one.”   I am
alone, cannot lift child
cannot quench his appetite,
take out the tubes or
extract the needles.

They take him away now
and bring me a cup of ice.

Day 3

The woman in white returns him to me,
big—almost 11 pounds—but also little,
being just three days’ new.
He lies at my side and
we know one soft cool moment
inside the pressure of searing pain
and the fever’s prickly burn

Skin on skin, my newborn son,
absorb what I cannot say,
these thoughts not only of love
but under love as well,
bond before bonds,
rock beneath the road
we are yet to travel

Someday you will sing, gigantito,
notes as deep as your eyes, dark and pure.

Teach me the notes again and again,
new-come child, someday man,
clutch my finger with your hand
as my arms surround you and my eyes watch you
slip slumbering into the womb of sleep:
let me treasure and remember this brief peace
the one we know now before
the world will have you and
the future stake its claim



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