Tagged: mother’s day

because there is no

we remain eight-tenths

remember that year

remember that year
when one stem of a peony
cost an entire

piano lesson, how young
we were back then, how present
.
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last, but not least, my

my mother’s touch is

the things we inherit

the things we inherit
from our mothers
sometimes arrive
dull, like a distant
reflection that require
polishing. the
very same moment
arrives for everyone –
in front of a hot stove,
looking down into
the swirling
contents – one pinch
or two? chopped
or diced? did she
or didn’t she?

.
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motherhood is a