Winter
by Joanna Gilman Hyde
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:20pm
I knew a daughter once
with long thick wavy hair
dark
Who couldn’t speak
except to yell
a guttural cry
in any public place —
Her Mother named Her Winter
& told Me a doctor said
at the snowy October birth
“Either You’re going to die
or Your Baby will”
Excellent
Thank you so much.
All mothers bleed poetry…some don’t appreciate this cosmic sacrifice. Brilliant work.
Thank you for this heart-felt comment.