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Mother and Child on Board
by David Radavich

They sit on the seat beside me—
commuter flight, departing late,
thunderstorms around us,
curled up like two question marks,
one safely inside the other.

The poem we hoped so much
for, struggled so much for,
sleeps now beside us
with rhyming shirt and shoes,
male face and female face
that scarcely differ.

Again the universe is trying
to correct us, correct our maladies,
feed us back into the body,
connect us one to another peacefully.

Storms hardly matter
in this arc of hair.

Eventually they wake—no crying,
big eyes, a new world everywhere—
and home comes near
by itself, opening its big arms

at the gate, where we
enter our own new place
with such gifts.

Connecticut River Review, 2001.  

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