a poetry e-zine










Poems By Jill Gabriel


Lullaby Mother

My mother hangs out wash in mountain air.
A believer in wind, she nods to the snapping clothes
white shirts, polka-dot dress, printed napkins
pajamas purged of infant milk.

Now I live present and past together
make paper hats out of headlines
scratch hopscotch on sidewalks
hear “sticks and stones” through drift of time.

She neatly slices hot dog and bun
pulls a cake from the oven
clasps my cold hands in her warmth
laughs when I jump away like a frog
catches me, under the faucet scrubs back my face.

She knows how to do things, has the sum of all details
more than her ten fingers and toes.

I sing to my children
lullabies behind her voice.

Jill Gabriel is a walker in the Hudson Valley and a catboat sailor on Cape Cod. Her poetry has most recently appeared in New Verse News, Time of Singing, Apple Valley Review, Ancient Heart and in Inside Cape Cod.



Copyright 2007  Chantarelle's Notebook