13 of 30

There is a new one,

so little, born yesterday

after New York’s wildest rain.

The sun pushed its face up out of the water,

over the bridges,

and Jolie, our little pretty

fell into her mother’s hands

in the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Our biggest pot was catching water that split

the ceiling the night before.

He was telling her,

baby, you did it!  Look at her,

she’s beautiful, you did it!

There were no sirens,

only the wail of something new

and the sighs of a mother.

We piled into the bedroom and brought

new towels,

sterilized bobby pins and kitchen scissors.

We knew exactly where everything was.

When they crawled into bed together,

and the towels were thrown out,

and the windows were made dark with pillows,

I mopped the floor and quietly

closed the door behind me.

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About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in 30 in 30, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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