< 1
I counted sewing pins
in the pin cushion before
and after I sewed your
little dress for fear
a pin gone stray would
pierce your tender
roaming toddler feet
I seemed programmed to
meet your every need to
hear your every beat
who knew this mother
who turned down dolls
and played with balls and
trucks when she was a girl
would have a place
deep down inside herself
waiting glad to put all else aside
to catch your pointy pins
and drive you to your dreams
Susan Shea is a retired school psychologist who was raised in New York City. Since she has returned to writing poetry this year, her poetry has been accepted in a few dozen publications, including Feminine Collective, Ekstasis, Persimmon Tree Literary Magazine, and The Avalon Literary Review.