Poetry
Having a Baby at 43 by Debora Kuan
Good bones, good / home—how tired you are, / and yet how you serve.
Good bones, good / home—how tired you are, / and yet how you serve.
Do you know how much wind bleeds before there is a tongue to call it rain?
I found a bottle / of nail polish in the underbelly / of a bag from college.
Even though she was out of the streets, she didn’t trust man nor nature to care for a child