Poetry Subscriber Only

My Mother’s Outside

  walking up and down the motel   parking lot, everyone else asleep. The streetlamps   stay on, rattling inside, the streetlamps   like eyes of owls in photographs but my mother   keeps walking, up and down, she’s buoyed   by worry, by froth and foam bearing her body   in sea-spray over the […]

This content is for subscribers only. Please log in below, or sign up for a subscription here.