Today's poem is by Jessica Cuello

Dear Mother,
       

I had a dream
that my little baby came to life again.

What is it to make a life
that dies—like god
it cannot stand
to stay.

Cabbage leaves are soft
like cloth and smell of tea.
I wore them on my breasts
like medicine. The earthy
taste of tea made me hate
my flesh—I didn't know
if I was made of
anything else.
Her thirteen days
were the only time
and they had no measure.
Clouds swirled like bands
of twisted cloth.
I'm sorry to burden you.

As a child, I was spooked
by the empty hall
when father moved us in.
At first he loved me
like I was you

and in the dream we rubbed it by the fire
and it lived.

Yours, as ever,
Mary

*The italicized lines are from The Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Vol. I, ed. Bennett, written from MWS to Hogg after her baby dies. The poem is addressed to her dead mother, feminist and activist Mary Wollstonecraft. Tweet

Copyright © 2024 Jessica Cuello All rights reserved
from Yours, Creature
Jackleg Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission