Dear little box of noisy meter, dear tiny drum of daily duty, dear small black lunch box for a leprechaun, how much time we spend together, you and I.
How many early mornings at the dining table,
sunlight streaming, baby dreaming,
house still, asleep and quiet
beside your rhythmic thump a-thumping?
How many midday tête-à-tête’s spent
reading novels together
in the office kitchenette?
How many miles to and fro
we travel in our daily mission
sisters in arms, or chests, rather,
to sustain a tiny blinking being
with what I plant and you harvest.
You, my daily work mate;
you, my ever reliable help meet,
how I have grown to love your company
during this fleeting time of life you represent.
Our sole purpose served together-
so treasured, exists for such
a gorgeous fraction of time.
Thank you for being my faithful servant
during these motherhood meditations.
Thank you for bearing witness
to the beating of my heart.
Shannon J. Curtin is a 2014 Pushcart Prize nominee and the author of two collections of poetry, Motherland (forthcoming from Anchor and Plume Press), and File Cabinet Heart (ELJ Publications), Her poetry has been featured in a variety of literary magazines including Short, Fast, and Deadly, The Muddy River Review, The Mom Egg Review, and The Elephant Journal. She holds an MBA, competitive shooting records, and her liquor. She’s the mother of Quinn, a real boy, and Bruno a dog that wishes he was a real boy. She would probably like you. You can find her at www.shannomazur.com and @Shannon_Mazur.