Poem from:

Motherlung by Lisa Marie Brodsky

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Brodsky, Lisa Marie

The rosebuds did not open this year
and you began to suspect.

The wind at your back
felt more like a push.

Balloons that filled the sky
like swollen swallows

saddened you because
it took such inhalation, such 

exhalation. You decided to do 
everything in and out, to copy 

the breath and everything up
and down, to copy the chest.

But the cough, which catches you
by surprise each time,

gives you away and the head scarves 
in your wardrobe tell your secrets.

Copyright © Lisa Marie Brodsky 2014

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