Erin Armstrong
Learning Language
ear’ago, Mummy
my coffee mug, half filled
goes into little hands
too big,
she takes the handle, tips it,
sloshes coffee into the living room carpet
ear’ago, Mummy.
She smiles tilting the cup toward my crotch.
I say thank you
because she brought me my coffee
that’s half on the floor.
I’m supposed to teach her
to give to others, but
she has no grasp, no grip, no ability
to hold lukewarm coffee—my third cup.
Today was an early wake-up day.
It’s black outside even the stars have disappeared.
Extinguished are the mornings where I rise
alone to my writing, my coffee, my sense of self
lost to the exhaustion of teaching
her to speak, to hold, to be in the world tilting
on an axis that forgets the past in seconds.
She’s practicing:
ear’ago, Mummy—
a book I haven’t opened in months.
ear’ago, Mummy—
a journal with unfilled pages
ear’ago, Mummy—
a bookmark ripped from its place
ear’ago, Mummy—
Erin Armstrong’s work has appeared in several literary magazines including: Indy Correspondent, Fiction Southeast, Black Heart Magazine, Lost Magazine, The Museum of Americana: a literary review, Papeachu Review, and more. She received her MFA from the University of Arizona. She lives in Shoreline, Washington. More of her work can be found at www.erinarmstrong.org.