i s s u e: 1
// p o e t r y
Midnight Punctuation
by Christiana Doucette
A squawk with eyes closed.
The distress call.
Bedsheets rustle
root right left.
A second squawk as I enter—the midnight morse code for mama.
I lift you from the crib
and you curl into me soft and warm;
a comma
where all day you were a dash.
Pudgy fingers push, pull, push again.
Certain I’ll be there
certain of sweet milk
and a steady heartbeat to drum away the dark.
And then you’re latched
drawing safety, security, sustenance
from breast to body
filling the empty places
grown with absence.
As I brush cornsilk curls from your forehead,
the nightlight blinks blue on double crescent lashes.
A content head rolls from breast to just below my chin
the scent of sleeping baby
perfumes the air as
your ear catches my heart’s cipher.
You’re safe.
You’re safe.
You’re safe.
about the author // Christiana Doucette
| Christiana Doucette (she/her) spends mornings in her garden weeding, because just like her poetry, flowers grow best with space to breathe. She has judged poetry for San Diego Writer’s Festival for the past three years. Her poetry has appeared in anthologies, been set to music by opera composers, and performed on NPR. She is the 2024 Kay Yoder Scholarship for American History recipient. Her full-length verse novel works are represented by Leslie Zampetti of Open Book Literary. You can find her recent/forthcoming poetry in Full Mood Magazine, The Zinnia Journal, Boats Against the Current, The Creekside Magazine, and Frazzled Lit. |
wildscape. literary journal 