Poems & Essays

19 Jun

Don’t Spill Anything

General/Column No Response

Don’t spill anything, I say to her
when she interrupts my writing
to ask where we keep the cooking oil
holding a wet bowl, standing in the doorway.

I look up, brakes suddenly thrown
on the prose train I’ve been riding,
to watch the brilliant words
fly out the window over my desk.

The cabinet under the sink, I say,
my pen hovering over the page.
Sorry to bother you, she says
water slowly dripping from the bottom of the bowl.

She is ten and I am her mother,
still her shelter and giver of blessing.
You know that, I add, looking down at my notebook,
pen poised to recapture my last thought.

She is gone when I look back up.
I can hear her in the kitchen,
listing the ingredients she can find on her own,
while I watch the empty doorway.


Jessica Moser was born and raised in New York City, and has heard and studied poetry at various venues around Manhattan.  She lives in New York with her family.
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Arrival June 19, 2017 Daughter June 19, 2017