To hear Gail Mazur reading "Mother's Day Ghazal," click here. Sometimes a shift in tone is all you'd need to make you happy. A shade, a shadow—but then you wonder, is this happiness?
Heady scented air of wisteria, lilacs, and vibernum
that could drown you through the seven windows.
When you lived on a peninsula, a disoriented shark stranded
in the shallows; you observed her with terror, pity, and pleasure.
May, so ruthless with your feelings: you're fiercely in love
with your two children a tumultuous continent away.
Still, you could swim naked beneath the Pleiades at high tide
and dance barefoot without music, without a partner.
Altruistic surrender—the merciful self-exoneration
of maternal memory—undone by a child's mythologies …
You attached a screen door to the children's room;
an avid cat could climb and cling and never reach their cribs.
Although you have not been granted all you craved, you feel
no grievance, only an abandoned nestling's agitation.
If an era ends, who will interpret the last chimes?
A cafe closes, currency burns. The present's an archive.
Word arrives of Tokyo's crows pecking at schoolchildren,
the elemental smear and grime in immaculate narrow alleys.
TODAY IN SLATE
Here’s Where We Stand With Ebola
Even experienced international disaster responders are shocked at how bad it’s gotten.
Why Are Lighter-Skinned Latinos and Asians More Likely to Vote Republican?
A Woman Who Escaped the Extreme Babymaking Christian Fundamentalism of Quiverfull
Subprime Loans Are Back
And believe it or not, that’s a good thing.
It Is Very Stupid to Compare Hope Solo to Ray Rice
In Defense of HR
Startups and small businesses shouldn’t skip over a human resources department.