A poem by Gillian Kessler.
Relative Motion
And when the motion finally slows—just enough for him to recollect my presence, and reach out to me—is it only my imagination, or is the boy I lift in my arms clinging to me a little less tightly than the one I put in moments ago?
Redefining Beauty in Motherhood
Beauty is the softness of and stretchmarks on your tummy where your little miracles grew.
The Mountains Between
The suggestion that my son has “social issues” comes from the mouth of a first grade teacher.
A Nightmare On 85th Street
All on the account of some lice.
A Mother’s Mantra
“I love you. I’m proud. Have fun.”
Away
A poem by Brianna Randall.
Solomon at Four
A poem by Gillian Kessler.
The Cord
A poem from Gillian Kessler.
I Once Was Lost
I push
forward, moving
to a sound—