Shelter

By Marda Messick

My grandmother ran a day care in Atlanta,

The Sheltering Arms. 

There was a playground with a fleet of tricycles,

saltines and orange juice in little cups

and real arms to lift and calm.

Uncle John made a 16mm film

of me in my red coat and bonnet  

teetering in a hug with my cousin,

certain already what arms are for. 

Now I shelter, aging in place

without embrace. 

Marda Messick is a poet living in Tallahassee, Florida. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Christian Century and Literary Mama.