By Li-Young Lee
Sad is the man who is asked for a story and can’t come up with one. His five-year-old son waits in his...
Explore Poems: Parenthood
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- By Brian SneedenMy daughter says she is the Wolf Singer.She plants the vertebrae of her enemieslike seeds. She’s three...
- By Carlina Duanin the waiting room, I watched women snaprubber bands around their wrists, runningtheir hands through...
- By Kate Aschethe sac itself wasclear and I cleaned itlike a window and in the windowsaw my baby our baby[birdlike...
- By Kush ThompsonYou will tell your babies, someday, of the little house behind the wall clock. They will love most the...
- By Catherine BarnettIt should be easy, I tell my son, to dispose of the possessions kept in these rooms. I’ve left some ...
- By Tomás Q. MorínIn this life, there are starsand there are stunt doubles.Before I became one of those fathersobsessed...
- By Ellen ElderMy daughter’s cellphone works only on the veranda. A metronome pulses the hours. Boats comb the lake...
- By David TaitA week of autumn snow, and today the sun, the buildings fizzy with melting, the beggar draping his sheets...
- By Jenny Zhangthe idea of my current life began one solar revolution ago to think I almost missed this called the ...
- By Angela JacksonBefore the doctor told me I could not leave her, Not even for fifteen minutes, Twice a week I would ...
- By Rae Rose Glemby1. I am a beloved, holy city, surrounded by barbed wire. My tribe protects me. Offers me advice. 2. ...
- By Terrance HayesThe rain falling on a night in mid-December, I pull to my father’s engine wondering how long I’ll remember...
- By Brenda ShaughnessyWhen we get to Andromeda, Cal, you’ll have the babyhood you deserved, all the groping at light sockets...
- By Marianne ChanShe asks why I’m here, and I say, I’m having an interracial child, and I’m afraid she’ll be white. This is a rapid...
- By Christell Victoria RoachA mother walks into the river, daughter pressed to her chest. They say she cried as she swam back to...
- By Fritz WardInside the trap, I spend weeks remodeling the haven you’ll haunt. Not for the joy of it, but for the...
- By Danni QuintosAfter all that birth, the legs you’ve used your whole life are now wobbly & the lake where your son ...
- By Patricia Smith"I seen it lots of times, I seen it, just from being on the street when something new was going down...
- By Patricia SmithWhen a bullet enters the brain, the head explodes. I can think of no softer warning for the mothers ...