The Hush

the puppies wait
beneath the board
dripping
expectations

humming, mama
drops a bit--
cornbread crisp
bacon fried

hush puppies

the children run
upsetting spoons
laughing
with the clamor

frowning, mama
taps a beat
hands fan out
mid their stride

hush children

now at table
coffee shudders
brewing
treasured potions

sighing, mama
takes a sip
cradles mug
stirs inside             

For My Little Dumpling

flour cut
by shortening tines
whispered traditions
fold--unfold
the grains of truth
stirring fresh
milk-kissed fingers
plump the dough
despite appearing
paper thin

Multiparity

my womb has bloomed three

seasons, swells, waves;

hands, feet, heads, rumps

quickening somersaults

within my rind,

then bursting with fruit,

now hollow