An Apple a Day

requires 1.5 units of insulin
in a syringe that pierces her tiny arm.
A trade-off for a snack consumed
to keep the doctor away.

I read all the books on mothering,
Spock, Brazelton, Leach.
Nothing prepared me.

Here, take the needle, practice
on an orange, said the doctor.
An orange doesn’t stare with tearful eyes,
doesn’t plead, Please, Mom, no!

Our blackberry patch grows
thick with fruit and thorns.
We greedily nosh, filling blue bowls,
sucking the juice off purple-stained fingers,
the blood from our gashes.

We lick our lips and carry what’s left
into the house for pancakes,
another needle.

Miss You

After Gabrielle Calvocoressi

I don’t care if you arrive
in only your fragile bones. I’ll turn
up the heat and not complain when sweat
dampens the pits of my gray t-shirt, wrap
my fleece over your sunken shoulders and slip
wool socks onto your feet (you never did
dress warmly enough). I’ll bring an emery board,
pearl-white nail polish and pink lipstick.

I’ll prepare your tea — black, decaf,
sweetened with Splenda. My cabinet still holds
a large stash from the time you stayed with us ––
I don’t know anyone else to share them with.
I’ll squeeze sliced lemon into your mug,
add a small ice cube. I won’t sigh
or act annoyed when you ask
over and over, What’s new?

We’ll gossip about your grandkids; I’ll spill
my secrets and stories. I’ll tell you I’m sorry
for the times I wasn’t there for you, the times
I wouldn’t let you be there for me. I’ll clasp
your slender fingers in my short,
nail bitten ones and we’ll weep
for our losses: brothers, sisters,
friends, your memories.
You’ll forgive me.

We’ll rewatch Breakfast at Tiffany’s, or kick up
our feet to Swing Time. Your choice, Mom.
You can stand by the kitchen window,
point out blue jays and robins.
I’ll polish your fingernails and apply
lipstick. You’ll leave
a faint smudge
on the mug’s rim.

Laurie Rosen is a lifelong New Englander. Her poetry has appeared in Peregrine, Gyroscope Review, Zig Zag Lit Mag, New Verse News, Oddball Magazine, The Inquisitive Eater: a journal of The New School, One Art and elsewhere. Laurie won first place in poetry at the 2023 Marblehead, MA Festival of the Arts.