by Allison Baldwin
There’s nothing like a mother’s love
A monument to practical things.
A hairbrush on a nightstand. A
notebook tucked away.
She is the anchor
in this house. She
grounds in fire.
She goes into Quick-Chek
buys me two half gallons of milk,
a box of cookies,
never asks for money back.
She dances in the grocery aisles
when no one’s looking
except for me.
She’s weird—
but so am I.
I, too, dance
when no one’s watching,
maybe I should stop
let the spotlight shine on me.
Sweat under the limelight.
Does she know what she has birthed?
More goddess
than monster.
We play bumper cars
with shopping carts.
She hits me where it hurts
then blames me for the paint
scratch. A heart catch in
the throat.
Allison Baldwin is a poet and disability advocate based in Highland Park, New Jersey. Her work has been published in both print and online. most recently in Intercultural Press, the upcoming debut issue of Ghost Heart Literary Journal, and the upcoming anthology, Give Me Flowers While I Am Living: Letters, Poetry, and Essays Honoring Glenis Redmond. In addition to published writing, Allison also volunteers for the Highland Park Arts Commission where she recently coordinated Access Granted, a two-part photo essay/community writing project that centered the lives of people with disabilities living in New Jersey. In her free time, she also manages the Instagram page, Awakening Spells, where she combines her intuitive gifts of Tarot and Oracle Card reading to help people in her community embrace their magic. For more inspiration, writing, and poetry, follow her @awakening_spells and @notes_on_an_elevator. Follow the Access Granted project @accessgranted2019
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