
Night Wander
I stood in the hall / maternity-pants elastic worn thin / The night-light in the bathroom glowed / I whispered into the dark, “I am here.” / You kicked me in the bladder / and then ghosted
“C”-Work
I gave my abs for you / lying marooned on the bed with swollen breasts, refused / You only want the bottle / in the hand of your dad / I only ever expected a thank-you
First Memory
My love, will you remember / the first time you saw me wear shoes? / My love, will you remember / the elevator doors opening, too? / My love, will you remember / my face above the stroller / adjusting the pumpkin hat on your head? / My love, will you remember / when you looked up at me and grinned / because you had just pooped? / My love, I will
February 3, 2025
When you met my ex in Whole Foods / you called him Dada and tugged at my shirt / revealing my old bra / You’ve known since February that I loved you like a son / because you are my son / my son / my son
. . . Dinosaur
A love that makes the impossible possible / a train to a ferry to Ikea / to replace your Jättelik doll / the last one in the tri-state area / The babysitter put the dirty dishes back into the drawer / You screamed when I turned off “Paw Patrol” / and told me that brontosauruses suck
Stab Me in the Drop-Off Line
Still groggy from Ambien / I put on leggings and walk you to school / You tell your friend Zeus / “That’s my mom, but she usually wears dresses.” / And it isn’t even true
Believe You
Just us / the humidifier glugs / I tell you again the Pumpkin Goblin won’t bite your feet / but you still cry beneath your poster of Vin Diesel / Baby, what did I do / to lose your trust?
It’s Your Future
No curfew, but you take advantage / vomiting in the sink of our renovated master bathroom / “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you scream / You were supposed to take the SAT this morning / I feed you Coke and Advil / On Instagram, you say I ruined your life / Just like all my haters
Expulsion
You were nineteen / I was fifty-five / You and your roommate / in the junior common room gyrate / rapping under the name BreastWrk / setting off indoor fireworks / And you didn’t even / ask for my help / So don’t come home to me, baby / when you are expelled
Mom, a Pop Mogul
A memoir, and I’m so proud / I preordered enough copies to fill the Nashville library / Page five and you’re already calling me “touchy” / even though I still have all your old onesies / I can’t read another word / How could you make art / about people you love? / How could you make art / about people you love? ♦