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

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s