Sweet BittersPosted: December 27, 2013
If you die first, I will surely regret
all the time I have spent angry with you,
unable to rise above feeling crushed
by your will, your need for me to love
what you love. This is true, just as I
mourn the years of motherhood,
never half-hearted, just unable to breathe,
caught in the dirty refrigerator,
the avalanche of laundry, menus,
dust bunnies, bills, career—
My friend asks why I miss you,
fear for you so when you go to war.
When you are here, she sees our
differences and wonders what holds
us together. How I’ve brooded
over that question, especially
when your good -humored flirting
feels slathered, like a sweet frosting,
never noticing the cake is burnt.
Amazing, we don’t declare it inedible.
——–Caroline LeBlanc, MAMF Writer-in-Residence