prev << 21 - 30 of 126 >> next
LOGO LOGO LOGO LOGO LOGO LOGO LOGO LOGO

POETRY

When Grandmom Died
by Kim Hildebrand Cardoso

My mother did laundry.
Rubbed spot remover in methodical circles,

poured the blue into the cup,
sorted dark from light from delicate.

I watched her. The iron turned on its end.
Her right fingers suspended on the handle,

her left touched to her lips. Eyes squeezed shut,
the rumpled shirt lying still on the board.

When I couldn't bear to hold my breath
anymore, I backed away, toe heel, toe, heel.

Saw myself in the waxed linoleum floor.

Kim Hildebrand Cardoso is a midwife and artist-writer whose poems have appeared in Literary Mama, Swink, and Potomac Review. Originally from Baltimore, Maryland, she now calls Oakland, California home. She lives with her Brazilian husband, their two small kids, and a big dog in a house near a lake where she cooks soup, builds community, and tries to keep up her blog call me zari. She is a 2008 mamazine MAMA FOCUS photo contest winner.