Kelsey Jordan I Find a Blond Hair in His Laundry I ignore the baby and yet, cannot take my eyes off her red and wrinkled fists of a freshly burned phoenix. I walk around her nursery, a bird beating itself against the window. I know if I hold her now it will be too tightly. And if I rock her, I might not stop. Kelsey Jordan is a poet, author, and writing mentor living on the Oregon Coast with her daughter. She has her MFA in Writing from Pacific University. If interested in writing mentorship, contact her…
Author: Mom Egg Review
Laurin Becker Macios Mama, Look Laurin Becker Macios’ books include the forthcoming YA verse novel Calling Me Home (Holiday House, 2026) and the poetry collection Somewhere to Go, winner of the 19th annual poetry award from Elixir Press. Her poetry has appeared in PANK, The Pinch, and elsewhere. More at laurinbeckermacios.com.
Kali Pezzi I Treat My Postpartum Depression With Friends On Facetime Self-diagnosed. I’m in the midst of an existential crisis. I text crisis text line and they ask me if I have weekend plans. I don’t. I can’t plan when my anxiety makes plans for me. I can’t plan anything, not even enjoying a cup of coffee when my anxiety tells me I’ll be dead. A friend says, “ugh you’re so dramatic.” I weigh myself everyday. I finally weigh the same amount of grief I did at the beginning of the pandemic. Low budget therapist Claire says, “go to…
Sara Quinn Rivara Single Motherhood Is My Superpower I wish I could shoot light out of my hands. Light would fill me as water fills a glass. I wouldn’t let men near. Summer evenings, I’d walk unafraid through dark parking lots, stars bright as juneberries, the baby strapped to my chest. A seedcoat of light would enfold him. I could fly if I hoped hard enough, leap over the roof of the garage and the trash fire of my life. When I sent my son with his father, I’d let light seep into his outstretched hands. I don’t know…
Adrie Rose Climate Strike I organize the strike and I burn dinner. I organize the strike and I carry our clothes two blocks to the laundromat. The news says it’s already too late and I organize the strike. I organize the strike and call my mother to check on her bloodwork. I organize the strike and I practice my Spanish. I organize the strike and forget to buy cat litter. I organize the strike and I go out for boba tea with my twelve year old. I hold their hand as we walk. I organize the strike and men…
Wendy Mannis Scher Memo to the Absent Facing west, feel the weight of late afternoon press itself against the windows. Such heat, and the refracted sun quilts the floor, the walls, the skin, dust motes threading rainbows. Beyond the pane, watch trees extend branches windward. Drought-pale, their needles/leaves are hands cupped to drink, imagine supplication. But no, trees don’t pray. On the stove, chicken soup clatters. Lower the burner, wipe the counter. Friday night—the hour closes in on the Sabbath, but you are not here, as if tonight were Tuesday, as if our daughter didn’t ask to light candles,…
Please join us for an off-site reading featuring authors from WTAW imprint Betty Books and MER. Friday, March 28 5:30 – 7 PM Shoo Shoo Baby 717 W. 7th St. Los Angeles, CA 90017 Featuring: M.P. Carver, Bradel France de Bravo, Anya Kirshbaum, and Tamara J. Madison.
SWWIM, MER, Whale Road Review, Perugia Press, & Cultivating Voices present: Off site. On purpose. Thursday, March 27, 2025, 7:00 PM MG Studio, 1319 W. 11th St., Los Angeles, CA 90015 (Free Admission – Doors Open at 6:30) SWWIM, MER, Whale Road Review, Perugia Press, & Cultivating Voices present “Off Site. On Purpose,” a reading featuring many of today’s most celebrated women writers and poets, including Subhaga Crystal Bacon, Jiwon Choi, Natasha Herring, Heidi Seaborn, Ana C.H. Silva, Lesley Wheeler, and more stellar voices! Join us for a night of incredible poetry and prose in downtown LA. MG Studio,…
Jennifer Barber Writing Too Fast, I Write “Thew” for “The” As if you and I commingled +++++++++in the dark and later the same day I give birth to little baby Thew, +++++++++born in winter under a mauve sky. By early spring he cuts a tooth. +++++++++He sprouts a curl. The yard’s fescue and crabgrass thicken, lapping up the sun. +++++++++Warm in my arms, little baby Thew babbles his lips, laughing as he sees +++++++++a plane overhead, a dove on the roof calling another on a branch. +++++++++He and I flow into you like waves that slide across the sand…
Review by Constance Clark To evoke mother in our thoughts and emotions, rarely do we think of fluidity. More often, stops and starts, bumps in the road, outright rage. I suppose, continuous flow of love could be the anomaly in some mother-daughter relationships. But not mine, nor Nancy Gerber’s deeply honest glimpses into her mother bond in her poetry chapbook Language Like Water. Her retrospective poems drip words of mother-daughter complexity in short quiet poems that taunt a range of emotions, and speak to her success as a poet, a finalist for the Gradiva Award in 2014 with her…