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Ryan Eisele

Radical Hours of Mothers

The rise of the mother has begun
Radiation emitting from her fingertips
Notable is her expression, her figure
The paging of her offspring commences

Scaling through the halls of laughter and pain
The view from her point is a disaster
Never mind that this is merely her hobby
The routine to her feels like a job

Doing what she seems to have always done
It's as if she were some eternal bush
The honoring of the roses it bears
The monsters it rears, the country's heirs

She sits down, flips the switch, a computer fan whirs
This is where she gets her grip
This is the prime time of her day, of her life
Notice how the world wakes up around her

[...] Read more

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