Skip to content

What is the first duty of a mother to a child?

At least to keep the wretched thing alive - Band

Of fierce cicadas, stop this shrilling.

My daughter lightly leaves our house.

The thought rears up: fix in your mind this

Maybe final glimpse of her. Yes, lightning could.

I make this note of dread, I register it.

Neither my note nor my critique of it

Will save us one iota. I know it. And.

from A Part Song

Denise Riley

More from
Poem of the Week

Michael Symmons Roberts

Pelt