Coming Home After an Exile in Marriage

Coming Home After an Exile in Marriage


My mother cried when the passport man smiled at her.

Welcome home:

Two words to bridge an ocean of grief,

Three syllables to encircle her fingers,

Kiss her lips sweetly,

Cling to her clothes like the smell of English rain-

Hold her.

Just as the tarmac cradled her feet as she rocked back and forth, still at sea-

But home.

Six years old, I sat at her feet

And watched her peel like clementines at Christmas,

Saw her collapse into herself in a shivering of beingness

As she picked up her heart from baggage reclaim,

Dusted off the sand and swallowed it whole-

Her smile red and bloody-

She was home.


by Maria Malinowski


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Adam Whitworth

Fri 24th Apr 2020 20:04

One sign of Poetry: it gets better the more you read it. Just like this.

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Tue 14th Apr 2020 19:57

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Greg Freeman

Mon 13th Apr 2020 16:32

'Peel like clementines at Christmas ... her heart from baggage reclaim'. Strong lines, Maria.


Thu 9th Apr 2020 16:30

Powerful recollection. P. ?

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