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.
