Poems & Essays

09 Apr


General/Column No Response

my boy and I spend afternoon hours
in the museums of the backyard
I am his personal docent
telling him the stories of this versus that
while admiring the brush strokes of clouds,
the reclaimed architecture of birds,
the natural, historic performance
of the squirrel couple
thrumming and chirping
through the wiry branches above.
I find my gaze is always drifting up

he listens without looking
eyes cast down, he focuses on unearthing beauty
he amasses a pile of pebbles
glittering quartz, muddy shale,
pure white beads of rock.
he holds up a tight-lipped bud
a pink tinged question in his hand

I tell him the difference between
petal and rock, how it fell from above
before it had a chance to bloom
how not all small, hardened orbs
are made of mineral
he squints as he squeezes it between
two dirt dusted fingers
before tossing it in with the rest

category is of no importance to
his collection of things hard
and lovely


Shannon Curtin is a 2014 Pushcart Prize nominee and the author of two collections of poetry, Motherland (Anchor and Plume Press), and File Cabinet Heart (ELJ Publications). Her writing has been featured in a variety of literary magazines including Mothers Always Write, The Muddy River Review, The Mom Egg Review, and The Elephant Journal. She holds an MBA, competitive shooting records, and her liquor. You can find her at www.ablogofherown.wordpress.com.

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His Birth April 9, 2018 Chimera April 9, 2018