by Emily Patterson
an unshapely copy of itself.
I shiver over the sink,
coaxing milk, pink and viscous,
until slowly, slowly, the pain
unwinds—relief like a fever
breaking. Only later can I trace
the thread of this to your taste,
your changing need for less
from me—this ritual, deeply ours,
once an answer to every need,
receding without warning.
Only then do I grieve and give
thanks, as a mother does,
as light leaves the late
October sky, as the nights
change their shape
to make way for winter,
as they always do.
Emily Patterson is a curriculum designer, poet, and mother. Her work appears in Minerva Rising, Literary Mama, The Sunlight Press, Oyster River Pages, Sheila-Na-Gig, Anti-Heroin Chic, Mothers Always Write, and elsewhere. Her chapbook So Much Tending Remains is forthcoming from Kelsay Books.
A-Minor 