Poetry

I came upon Annie Flavin's poetry through another blog and I am in love with it.  It makes me laugh and cry in the same breath, it is so beautiful and so full of truth!  She writes about motherhood and she captures it perfectly.  I had to share a few...

In the Closet

by Annie Flavin

I sit down to take a bite –

the first bite,

the last bite;

they want it all,

except if it’s on their own plate.

I would give them

any organ in my body,

any breath they needed,

my life.

Yet I hide

in the kitchen,

in the pantry,

over the sink,

and eat my food –

shovel my food –

into my mouth

before they can ask for it.

“Mama?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Why does your mouth smell like chocolate’s in there?”

“There, there, sweetheart.

Go to sleep.”

Each Time

by Annie Flavin

Each time

I put them down to rest,

I kiss them good-night,

I kiss all of my screw-ups good-bye,

and I vow that

when they awaken,

we will all be new.

We can begin again.

We can start fresh.

Each and every moment.

If we can ditch

our own hang-ups and hangings-on of where we’ve failed,

and give fresh love

and serious attention,

they’ll rise right to us.

In fact,

most of the time,

they’re waiting for me

in that fresh, new space.

I just have to join them.

 

Foreplay, After Having Kids

by Anne Flavin

He kissed me when he left this morning.
And said,
“Thanks for all that
you do around here,”
while nodding his head toward
the sink,
the kids,
the laundry room.
He put those kids to bed when he got home.
He cleaned the bathtub
so I could take a bath
while he straightened up.
He did the dishes and the laundry,
vacuumed even.
He never mentioned sex.
After all of that, he didn’t need to.

My Giftsby Annie Flavin

They are my woobies.
My baby blankets,
my favorite stuffed animals,
my lovies,
my pacifiers,
my protectors,
my good night songs and
my good luck charms.

I don’t know when
what I am supposed to be for them
became
what they are for me.

I don’t know when
their spirits started
filling the cracks
that were in my own.

When “she’s beautiful”
became
“I’m beautiful.”

When “he’s brilliant”
became
“I’m brilliant.”

I don’t think
it’s good or fair or right
to use their lives
as caulking for my own.

But, what do you do
when their life’s spirit
is the most beautifully brilliant piece of work
you’ve ever created?

You give it to the world.
They are them.
I am me.
Each life unique.
Each its own.