The Not So Good Days of Motherhood

Motherhood is wonderful. Motherhood is hard. Single motherhood is twice all of that. Writing kept me sane.

The Crossing

The squeal of tires,

the scream, the thud,

the hot, sweet odor

of burning rubber.

I see and hear and smell

the last, lingering moments

of a life too short.

Only

it never happened.

You looked both ways,

bright, cherubic smile

swiveling

on a fragile neck,

my own tensed,

jugular throbbing

with worry.

Light feet skipping

across the pavement,

dancing in glee

on the other side.

You turned and waved

and I remembered

to breathe.

A Bad Mother Day

Red is for roses,

blue as in bluejay,

I am having

a bad hair day.

No fair!

My turn!

Work it out,

I say.

Broken glass, spilled juice.

Where is my lipstick?

I've had it,

I say.

One more story,

one more song.

I want to go

far away.

Cookie Monster

counts one-two-three.

I am having

a bad mother day.