poetry on mamazine:
by Kathi Morrison-Taylor
by Maureen Geraghty Rahe
by Kristin Van Tassel
by Tonya Ward Singer
by Kim Hildebrand Cardoso
by Kim Hildebrand Cardoso
by Kim Hildebrand Cardoso
by Kristin Berger
by Brad Buchanan
by Margaret Elysia Garcia
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Again.
by Michelle Taylor
It is nearly one in the morning.
She has been asleep for hours in our bed.
Little hands tucked up under little ears.
I think it is not too many hours until she wakes again.
I stand and stretch
moving toward the stairs to join her.
But instead of passing you
I remove from your lap what distracts you and sit
straddling you as if I am the child.
My chin on your shoulder
My back hunched and relaxed under your hands.
I stay there unable to move.
Then I stand up.
Take off my pants.
You pull your pants off at my obviousness.
I sit back on you
moving
swaying
saying nothing.
I look around the room.
It is filled with toys and shoes
the clutter of our decade together.
Of our lives in motion
ticking
rocking
racing.
A life that I cannot remember a time before.
Together.
This chair.
This moment.
This love.
This lifetime.
Michelle Taylor teaches at a community school in Seattle and contributes the Mama Politic column. You can find her other work at Out Loud and The Living Classroom.
