It's Still Life

A Poem After Frank O’Hara’s Why I am Not a Painter

The First 48-Hours of Motherhood

this small thing that shrieks
and hollers, and shatters my edges

it thinks it’s something vital
like rain or heaven

what is it trying to say, never sure
if it’s mad and sane, or stupid or not

does its thoughts stretch as far
as mine, or is it an empty window

love me, and you’ll see
how important I am.

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NaPoWriMo Day 29 – Write about gifts bestowed on your birth: I drew a blank. I will simply say that my father loved me unconditionally. It was a gift that can still bring tears of gratitude. This is probably off-prompt, but that’s what happens sometimes. The subject of this poem is never named or mentioned; Is it about the mother or the newborn. Do find a moment;  Frank O’Hara’s poem is worth reading, in my opinion. Image: Salvador Dali Figure and Drapery in a Landscape, 1934 (fair use) ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting #glopowrimo #napowrimo on Twitter