When you were born,
I was not a quilter or a knitter,

so I wrapped you in my words.
I prayed mantras into your milk

and hoped I would be good enough.
I cannot scrapbook or sew
or even pay for violin lessons.

And you might always wear
second-hands of second-hands.

But I can teach you to hold
your palms to the sky

to catch the whisper
of kind miracles hoping for the page.

I can read to you.
I can write for you.
And that will be enough.

Mandy Alyss Brown is a mother-writer in Central Texas, the 2013 recipient of A Room of Her Own Foundation’s Tillie Olsen Fellowship, and the author of The Sting (Sweatshoppe Publications, 2013). Her poetry and fiction has been published or is forthcoming in Bartleby Snopes, 4’33”, Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Extract(s), and many more. Mandy currently teaches English at an alternative school for high-risk students and loves it! Read more of her writing at

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Milk

  1. Peggy Barnes says:

    Wonderful, powerful ! Eager to see more of your work.

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