Poetry

October 22, 2016      

I Have Two Mothers by Mae Remme

One keeps her cup full at night,
so her mind will empty. She polishes
the real silver for holiday meals and shakes
her head when we break our great aunt’s china:
Damn it – that was the good stuff.
 
The other slipped me from her womb waste
bleeding want for her own mother,
whose whiskey-hooked kiss collapsed
too soon. Sometimes, they meet in the middle
and toast to the dead generations:
From now on we’ll use the good stuff all the time.

mae-remmeAbout the author:

Mae earned her MFA from the University of Alaska Anchorage in 2015. Her work has appeared in F(r)iction’s online imprint, F(r)Online. She lives at the end of the Sterling Highway with her friends and family in Alaska.

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