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When You Live by a River

In Dark Water

Same Blood

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A Conversation with Fear

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In the Yikes Zone

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My Mother does not Look Back

My mother does not look back
from the mirror

unless it’s long and low enough to catch
the large, misshapen thighs willing

to carry me and the swollen right knee
still willing itself to bend.

You are there, mother, for as long as I need you.

A college friend staring at her skin-covered femurs
said before she died, “Look. I wanted thin thighs

and now I have them.”
It was her gift

as all things that carry a load
give.

Mermer Blakeslee

 
 
   
 

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