by Lauren Duquette
Kind of Morning
It's a golden butter
full double rainbow
fat rain dropping
pressing down upon
your skin
kind of morning.
It's a quadruple batch
watch the water
boil hum
to your tea
if everything is
exotic then nothing
is exotic
kind of morning.
It's a cut
your carrot carefully
carrot thieving
dog watch your
dearest dream while
you pack and pack
your pregnant lunch
and rock your cradle
kind of morning.


woman walks down the street
she is a new mother
pushing a cheap stroller
down the suburban
paradise street
her deflated belly
is unflattering
but she wears
tall boots
an attempt
at fashionable
she is not
a young mother
hair dyed yellow
but i see
silver roots

maybe she adopted
never having
been able
to conceive

maybe she isn't
the new mother
a grandmother
with a new mother
daughter, neighbor, friend

maybe the stroller
is empty
she fills it
with her wishes
and likes to air
them out


i'm going to do it
creep into the
smell of rooms
rat and boy
on the hunt for
handmade stoneware
slightly collectible
goodwill china
unstack from desks and pillows
tipped under couches
crowded around toilets
sticky fuzzy
bitter smelling and black
gather under arms
cold baby birds
delivered to stained counters
let the faucet run hot
but remember
wash the dishes
don't burn them


Lauren Duquette currently resides in Vancouver WA and when she is not luring crows and hummingbirds into her yard with
bread and sugar she is singing to her baby or writing poems.

Originally published May 1, 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Lauren Duquette



Submitted by Lauren S (not verified) on Fri, 07/27/2018 - 11:42


I felt like I was standing in the kitchen with you having a conversation while the sun rises high in the sky.

Submitted by Karen (not verified) on Fri, 08/17/2018 - 13:50


Finally finally I read these lovely poems -- these jam-packed little pearls.  Give that baby a kiss for me!! xo