Mothering
After “The Senate Vows Impartial Justice,” by Al Ortolani
Protected by the roof of our porch, a robin has tucked her
nest on top of the artificial spring wreath I hung on the front
door, giving her easy access to grass and flowers and oak trees—
showing she knows something about location, location, location
in picking real estate. But when the door swings open, she flies
flustered from the nest, fussing nearby until the door closes.
The uncertainty must be like finding the foundation underneath
the kids’ bedroom is cracked. Like attempting to eat cherry
ice cream on a blistering afternoon in a cone that has a hole
in the bottom, or trying to drink a cup of scalding coffee
on a lurching train. It’s like believing your child is safe
because she is American born only to see her swept up by ICE
and sent to Honduras. Mothers need to be flexible, but there
are so many doors open to peril, so many teeth in the mouth
of despair. So many nests and fledglings to guard.
Originally published as “Like When They Try to Slash Medicaid, etc.” in New Verse News, May 21, 2025. Posted here with revisions.
