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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.