I Don’t Want to Be a Sad Mother

The Iowa Review - - JULIA ANNA MORRISON -

The moon looks rough tonight I scrape my eye­lashes on it. I need a full kiss in the dark.

This year I sleep with no one on my new pink sheets.

Miss­ing you be­gins the first time I hold you in the op­er­at­ing room.

Things are set up in a way in my heart. I don’t want to be a sad mother.

Al­ready I have used you to com­fort me.

Al­ready you have driven me mad, I don’t re­mem­ber where, into the icy woods where I had to imag­ine waves un­til I was calm.

For­give me. I have hated my­self since I was a lit­tle girl.

When your fa­ther leaves me, I can’t tell you he is go­ing.

I think of death toys in the wa­ter sock­ets. What is your fa­vorite game?

When you won­der who loved who more, I can only say I wanted you more than your fa­ther

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