By Olivia L. Casey My scales too heavy now for me to rise.Scales jabbed tightly in my many achesBraided up in agony, I lie. I lift a wing and loose a weakened cryFor I have found a body too weak to wakeThe heavy scales I carry at sunrise. Anxious eyes…
Motherhood is A Bright Torture By Stephanie Bryant Anderson I have stood at the gates in Leningrad for 17 months with all of Russia’s mothers. We have begged from ground built by bones of the dead. Lev, I was not meant to be your mother, though I have loved you…