Two Submission Responses This Week
anticipation, for weeks, two seeds burrowing in the bottom left temporal lobe
sprouted, embryos of hope hypocotyl-ing and also a memory:
my mother in the yellow sun-faded kitchen on Moy. fisting the beige phone handle, the curled cord coiling into itself, the curve at the base, cracked, black wires in shadow. she’s crying. cursing. leaning against the wall for support, the wooden stool behind her,
unwanted.
VANESSA SHIELDS 