Stirring : A Literary Collection

June Coleman Magrab


After you and Erika moved to New York
youíd rent a car each Christmas Eve and drive to celebrate with us.
Panic set in around eleven AM for me, perennially late, rushing
to dry my hair, slip into some jeans so Iíd be ready before you arrived.
Iíd yell down each year Iíll be right there. You may not have worn one,
but Iíve never seen anyone watch someone more than you watched Erika,
sometimes just a glance, more often direct gaze into her eyes,
eyes heavy with love.

No longer than a month after you started seeing my daughter
you invited me to lunch, told me Iím not fooling around,
I intend to marry her. We talked, you a kid in college, me,
thinking Erikaís done very well for herself, a man crazy for her
actually courting, talking to her mother, always respectful of everyone.

No kidding, Jon, I choked on those dry bagels you sold, kept eating
them just to stop and chat, get to know you better,
like you more than I thought possible for me
to like a prospective son in law. You and your shit-eating grin,
unruly soft blonde curls, eating more junk food than they sell
at a 7-11, I never tired listening to you, your teasing, arguments
for the sake of arguing abruptly changing sides as need arose.

You were my daughterís other half.
No matter how long you are gone I will see you
in Erika. Nothing can take that away.
On the day you married you looked so proud and happy
I thought youíd burst. You got all the way to a hotel

across town and called to say hi. I burst into tears of joy,
a motherís dream, her kid calling home on her wedding night.

Date of Birth: 6/29/40
Location: Maryland and New Hampshire
Publications: Caprice, New York Quarterly, Exquisite Corpse, Inky Blue, etc.
Fellowships from: MacDowell Colony, The Virginia Center for Creative Arts, and The Vermont Studio Center

Stirring : A Literary Collection

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