By Alleen Brown
By Maggie LaMaack
By CP Staff
By Jesse Marx
By Jesse Marx
By Maggie LaMaack
By Jake Rossen
Mother, are your memories with me somehow?
In the living of your life--
the times body and mind united to produce power and beauty,
the moments of longing for the joy of being, the histories you've invented of your travels and adventures--
did you ever imagine that I might come from within you
and share the breath of your life, the dreams of your life,
bound by a common cord of one life to another?
Day by day now your memories of my life, your life, our lives,
are shared by innocence and experience.
The first long looks, the awe-filling gaze of peace,
the heart-melting look of love,
the furious cry of confusion,
the quizzical blink and the weariness of the body--
all combine with what you've already lived,
what you know.
But what's new to me is new for you
and love is the point I've come to.
My body molds smoothly to your arms, hands, and breasts,
and we rest in tenderness, in the care and respect
you take for all the cares we share.
So for a while anyway
I will return your memories with mine
as we pass through this time.
hovers above the bottle-green hills
a clear membrane flecked with the last faint
irritation of the sunset.
It's the way the light hangs on
that moves me.
It's the way our lives hang on,
my friend in the hospital bed turning to me
her pale glowing face and lightless
eyes, joking, when they lay me
six feet under, I guess
I'll be sorry. Her thoughts trail off
beyond the white walls of her room,
examining her children's futures
in a clear light. Even when she sleeps,
her hands keep moving, tying up
all loose ends. I think
of the heavy tired legs of a woman
mounting stairs, groceries in her arms,
of a woman's hands
stocking a refrigerator,
pasting a postcard of flowers
over a small bed. Somewhere
in this city under the hills,
a woman I passed on the street
is doing these things,
her pulse ticking evenly as a wind-up clock,
her cells still perfectly matched
like the pinked wheels
behind the clockface. She is counting
all the reason to go on.
Sing Heavenly Muse!
Mom's Eye View
I walk behind you,
watch your insouciant woman-ness
down the beach.
Waves wreathe around your ankles
as you bend to pick up shells,
put some in your pockets,
cast others away.
Long silky blond hair.
Perfect breasts, recently ripe.
Legs that stretch
from America's upper edge
to the Gulf of Mexico.
A wondrous continent
wrapped in translucent
and I walk
and I wonder.
Too big now for your allotted space,
you burrow deep into my pelvis
Your curved spine lies along my left side,
your bottom just under my heart
You swirl and swish,
stretching your legs out
and under my rib cage,
pushing your butt against
my giving stomach
You have become contemplative
regarding your situation
You wait and listen,
sure of impending change,
certain you need a bigger room
Our time of shared existence
is nearly over
Now I must set you loose
into the world,
in a rush of liquid and light
commotion and pain
Do not be afraid little one,
I will catch you in my arms
My skin will warm you,
my breast feed you,
my hands and lips caress you
into sweet sleep
You will breathe me in deep
and know I am your mother
by Heidi Van Dixhorn