Once Again, Different Now, and Moratorium by Jessica Morey-Collins • Cleaver Magazine
THREE POEMS by Jessica Morey-Collins Once Again A woman glances at her watch, one hand resting on the grip of a wheelchair, wherein is ensconced her mother. Both wear khaki sunhats and sea-foam green respiratory masks, coral shirts. Squawks and wing beats thunder among the buildings. The daughter shuttles her ward between the range-of-motion machines at the playground, settles her in front of a symmetrical set of yellow wheels. The mother lifts her arms to their handles. A toddler waddles up, her pink pants ballooned with newness and diaper. She squats, taps a foot on the platform of the hip-rotator, glances over her shoulder at her parents. The mother in the wheelchair swings her arms in two mild, mirrored smiles. A family squabbles over a soccer ball. Laughter rattles tiles and concrete. The daughter consults the time, peels her mother away from the park. A graying man bats a … chop! chop! read more!
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