The chatter flow subsides
and I find myself alone,
the shish of turning pages
all I hear in throbbing stillness
as my board book brain
ponders twelve-point type:
It can’t talk back,
wipe off my kisses,
whine for the latest toy.
It isn’t forever in motion;
serifs don’t fidget or fuss
or jump on furniture.
Its rhetoric isn’t punctuated
with karate kicks, wrestling throws,
or the gatling of pretend gunfire.
When I’ve had enough, I simply shut the cover
to stop the flow of sounds inside my head,
which reminds me that written words cannot
rub noses like Eskimoses, sink my battleship,
or druggle a snowsy “I love you.”
Still, their black-on-white crispness calms me
as I dogear another page in the story of Mom.
Amy Nemecek is a book editor and a home-schooling mother of one energetic teenage son. When she is not teaching or working with words, she enjoys watching baseball, playing the violin, hiking, cross-country skiing, and researching family history. Her family lives in rural northern Michigan along with their two cats and a Yorkie. Recently, her poem “Mechanics” was published in Vine Leaves Literary Journal. Another of her poems, “The Work of Our Hands,” received high praise from the Breathe Christian Writer’s Conference in Grand Rapids, MI, and was awarded a scholarship so I could attend that gathering last fall.