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Posted on January 18, 2014 at 12:20 AM
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Niece
Cradled in your arms
Nuzzled close to your
Sweat stained neck
She cries
For she can smell
Offended by
Your noxious odor.
Slowly;
Rock-Rock-Rocking
She wails
As you rock out of rhythm
& burb with too much force.
She wonders why,
Why her mother’s mouthful of
A couple of teeth &
A fifth of vodka
Smell so
Foul
I mourn the loss of
The developmental stages of
My niece
For what we both have never known,
A mother.
Originally published in Poppy Road Review on 01/17/14.
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