Thoughts of my mother, Mary, from several of my poems—


Mary Mraz Culleny


the tsunami smell of yeast inundated our house
the mornings our mother baked bread
up through floorboards it came up the stairwell
it spread stirring our dreamselves alive
fresh loaves, bells for the nose
their toll sent sleep from somnolent heads


She had a whisper in her soul
louder than the wails the planet utters

She did the unselfconscious things
that were miracles only made by mothers


–on my mother’s birthday

Under cover of light the moon disappears
just like that, following my mother
travelling not by casket but 
instead by memory and dream
(alike as death and birth), so alike
there’s just this mirror between them


Today we celebrate that which you excelled at, mom:
being a deeply loving, generous mother to each one of us

You are always missed.


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