grounding [as a mother]

Photo by Jou00e3o Vu00edtor Heinrichs on Pexels.com
her home is a cramped one-story
with a superficial crack 
in the corner of the only window
above the kitchen sink

the one where she can see
the hands and feet of her children
when they swing high enough

there’s a small tear in
the living room curtain
the one with the
small blue flowers

she’s been meaning to
sew it but her children 
speak to the sun there

the holes in the backyard 
are their rousing valleys
the flooding in the grass
is their forest floor

they whisper simple
requests to the weeds
that smother the foundation

she puts her head
in the soft earth and
hears their laughter
like muffled glass


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