Song of the Reed Warbler
Cuckoo’s son is the best I’ll do;
No egg I lay ever comes to hatch.
His yawn is bigger than my head.
He is need and I answer—
Beguiling creature, all mothergone.
Sometimes I fear I hear her wings at night,
Rend ready, if I should fail, if she should
Whim. Stockholm. I tell myself,
This is family, all unplanned and nerved.
One day the low hum of her always threat
Will be gone. Can I wish it, to be safe
To mother only silence once again.
About Amanda Hope
Amanda Hope is a poet and librarian from eastern Massachusetts. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Cream City Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and Harpur Palate. She has two degrees in subjects that have nothing to do with creative writing. She enjoys riding the subway, scratching various animals behind the ears, and wearing magnificent boots.
