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at the beach with the kids

L. A. Bowen​​

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I emerge from the lake

water runs down my face

like tears

 

MOM, LOOK AT ME!

MOM, LOOK!

MOM!

MOM!

MOM!

 

the other one runs away

he is too small to know

there is danger here
 

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mom

L. A. Bowen

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know that
I see you
always in the kitchen
on holidays
always in an apron
in photographs
saying, I'm a mess
but smiling
tucking still-black hair 
behind your ears
when grandma dies
you say,
speak at my funeral, some day
make people laugh

still alive, I plan a eulogy
she loved licorice
and the smell of crayons
late in life, took up painting,
and an exercise class called 'body chisel'
never a wallflower, or a bystander
performed the heimlich on a stranger
successfully
always mending, tending to things
make people laugh
speak at my funeral, some day

you say,
when grandma dies
behind your ears
tucking still-black hair 
but smiling
saying, I'm a mess
in photographs
always in an apron
on holidays
always in the kitchen
I see you
know that
mom

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L. A. Bowen is a writer and artist from Buffalo, NY. She has published short fiction in Peach Mag and Smirk Magazine, as well as several children's stories and a YA novel. Find her work at labowen.com.

Clamour. It's summer somewhere.

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