Poems & Essays

25 Jun

After Delivery

General/Column No Response

Dead spring, we march (she and I)
on suburban sidewalks. She strollered
asleep; my stitches still healing.
We pass snow-damaged yards, flowers
unbirthed still — above us: wing-music,
birds aflutter. She (my daughter,
yes) does not know them yet (birds)
by name — only their darkness: bleary dots
across an ashen sky — but I say (as if she
cares): ​entends-tu les oiseaux?

 

Michelle S. Ramadan is mother to a bunny-loving dimpled two-year-old. She lives, teaches, and writes in Massachusetts.

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