imprint

Imprint \ ˈim-ˌprint: an indelible distinguishing effect or influence

Today

i am teacher- assigned to task and place you

in the room, i prompt children to make choices =good from

bad. you’ll remember, that I am large, gentle and made for comfort.

until your end you're reminded of something soft and warm.

bossoms big, and round, and sometimes spilling-out and over

the ones I fold you into the morning your head began to pound

recalling your sickness in my arms. and of that day, the smell

of lemon yogurt rising- spitting from your mouth,

your whimpers as i scooped you up. these are the things

that will stay with you. safely tucked into the crooks of my fleshy

arms- a brief thought that will follow you-to call upon and to

understand the reason-as I visit you in stories-and in dreams.

off and on all the years of your life. you’ll remember

crawling into my lap, and how upset you were,

how you reached out-the nurse taking you from my grip

my labored breath on your head wet, with sweat and fever

as I knelt beside you, swathed in blankets and whispers,

“Your momma will be here soon." and you’ll ask me not to leave

and i never leave the fabric of your long days and short years.

when I am gone- things will hurt you. and you will feel the spoil

of lemon yogurt, diffused from a sick belly-and be taken back

to something sour turned sweet, of long ago- of mother.

memories that hold close and restore-of teachers, women, healers,

of creatures, feminine imprints and eyes and seasons