I made freezer meals from the remnants
of my birth, to keep my mother with me, always.
scalding water on my toes
you christened me in a broken tub
behind the motel.
Your blood sopped off
with a rag,
that smells of fig trees floated on gas-waved air.
I wonder every day why
didn’t you leave me to drown.
SR Stewart is a freelance writer making in her way through the Pacific Northwest one state at a time. Her mentors include Dana Gioia, Joe Wenderoth, Andy Jones and Greg Glazner. Stewart loves crocheting, backpacking and writing snippets on her blog Lil Miss Poetry.