Jolene Paternoster’s most recent poem to appear here was Point Pleasant Beach in January (July 2012).
Afternoon Lullaby
By Jolene Paternoster
My child sits on a pink knit blanket
on my mother’s full-sized bed
opening and closing her fists and mouth
to the rhythm of her need for me–
the rhythm of a song I do not know.
But I move to it anyway, my terry-cloth robe,
the costume of my discontent, dragging too long
on the floor, and when I bend to pick her up
and place a mother’s hand behind her head
and one around her waist, I am the one being lofted
feet above the ground. And she cradles me straight-jacket tight
against her robe, still warmed by my memory and rough
against my cheek, but still she doesn’t feel the beat of my need,
how it begs her to take me in her arms and dance to it–
instead she places me back on the blanket.
She leaves me there and I sing myself to sleep.
on my mother’s full-sized bed
opening and closing her fists and mouth
to the rhythm of her need for me–
the rhythm of a song I do not know.
But I move to it anyway, my terry-cloth robe,
the costume of my discontent, dragging too long
on the floor, and when I bend to pick her up
and place a mother’s hand behind her head
and one around her waist, I am the one being lofted
feet above the ground. And she cradles me straight-jacket tight
against her robe, still warmed by my memory and rough
against my cheek, but still she doesn’t feel the beat of my need,
how it begs her to take me in her arms and dance to it–
instead she places me back on the blanket.
She leaves me there and I sing myself to sleep.
