Poem for my mom
By Megan Flood
For Nancy Bo Flood, from her daughter, Megan, following a retreat in Chacala by the sea.
I don’t want to try with poetry
I just want to smell the guava ripening on our windowsill,
Taste the silk and crunch of the flan in the sticky
Plastic cup
And celebrate the pelican
As it folds from
Soar
Into spear
Into sea.
Dive
Under the wave
Into foam
Sand swirl
Seaweed hair tangle and grit in my teeth,
Brine on my lips.
And hold your hand,
Which is smaller than mine now,
As we step carefully down
The cobblestone path
To the sea.