Three

Three

for Oona, Brian and Jeremiah

You are like mustard seeds
that I wished upon after hip hop
angels whispered in my ear.

Never had a green thumb
just a red heart, and white filled
nipples that nourished you
into yourselves.

You are light, constant
willowing in my arms
I thought I'd never leave my night
never leave my night.

You are babes with mouths
that utter truths, I want to pull you
back into my womb
for that is when we danced.

You are gifts wrapped in a
mixture of hues from plantations
that tried to keep you from
coming over to this side.

You are amazing remains of my labor
I'll never work that hard again
never get paid
abundantly.

You are my stars. The one's
I wished upon at Girl Scout camp
somewhere between the can of "off"
and tie knots on logs that hold us
over broken waters.

(c) 2007-2009 Charlotte Young Bowens
This poem was published in Shenandoah's Fall 2008 issue