Poem To Megan in Iraq

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This is the poem I wrote to my daughter in Iraq in response to the poem she sent to me. It is the last poem I have written. Ironically, the artwork that I chose is about infant mortality. It is a piece that I have given my husband.

Thoughts While Shaving My Legs

I miss you
My Meggie-O
19 year old daughter
raised on
Cherrie-O's,
Green Eggs and Ham.

I imagine you
fixing hummers
strapped in the green
Bush machine.
My sapling,
My baby,
My daughter.

I find myself
trying to get close to you
and find the razor
that you used
before you left.
While I soak
I watch how it glides
and plows the foam road
of my legs
the same way
it must have plowed yours.

I pretend my legs
are the same light pink
long, lean,
running machines
that you sport.
And I sigh.
The meaning of it all
in the tub.
The razor so close
to that edge...
the one that we share.

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