You Were Born

On a Monday
Your mother thought she had all the time in the world to discover you
      seven pounds of beautiful boy
      smooth baby skin
      dark hair like your father

She thought she had all the time in the world with you
      Now she wishes she’d gotten a better picture
      with your eyes open
      They’re amazing, she says

Too quickly things change
      You, whisked away
      hooked to tubes   wires
      Every machine imaginable, your mother says

Friday—operation
      Sunday—operation
            Monday—infection

Stay with us   please
We’re waiting for your tomorrow

Anna Monders has concocted Mars rocks at MIT, hobnobbed with lichen in the Alaskan tundra, taught French to engineers in Missouri, and run a one-room, off-the-grid school in rural Oregon. She has published in Gold Man Review and Rainbow Rumpus, and she currently serves as the coordinator for the Southern Oregon chapter of Willamette Writers.

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1 Response to You Were Born

  1. Pingback: You Were Born | My BlogThe Philosopher's blog.

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