My mother will be returning to the night sky soon. I see it in her shuffle, the swelling in her ankles, the tinge of glaze in her eyes. When she can’t hear she hides behind columns of anger and suspicion. Maybe we’re not just stars, but their explosion. I want transmutability to be warm and soft, familiar, like a mother. She’s hurtling away from me, I feel it. Intergalactic medium, they call it, the space between stars, mostly hydrogen, almost water. I remember as a child floating in the pool in the backyard, my mother in her floatie sometimes bumping against me, her sunglasses, her hat, our faces tipped to the sun.
Michele Bombardier lives on Bainbridge Island, WA, where she served as the inaugural Poet Laureate and has been designated an Island Treasure for her outstanding contributions to the arts and community. Don’t Ask Me How I Know, her second full length collection, was the first runner-up for the Sally Albiso Award. She is also the author of What We Do, a Washington State Book Award finalist. Recent work has appeared in JAMA, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review, and others. Before returning to graduate school for her MFA in poetry at Pacific University, she worked as a neurological specialist speech-language pathologist in hospitals and private practice. She is certified in narrative medicine, leading workshops and retreats for clinicians and those affected by illness or disability. She is a fellow of Hedgebrook, Mineral School, Edith Wharton House, Tyrone Guthrie Centre, and Centrum..
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To avoid the iron my mother used stretchers on Dad’s tan work pants: metal contraptions, forced into wet pant legs, stretched tight, clamped down hard, hung over the clothesline in the basement. She used other devices to avoid my father. Early to bed, up at dawn, volunteer on the library board, evening classes in accounting, a job at the bank long before June Cleaver ever thought of it. And my father contributed: football, fishing, graveyard shift, garden projects all guaranteed no paths would cross. Who knew about PTSD in the boomer years? Come anniversary twenty-one, mother breaking down, father lectured it was our fault. She’d snap out of it. Obviously what she needed was a little more help with the laundry.
Terri Cohlene taught the craft of writing at The Richard Hugo House and Whatcom and Shoreline Community Colleges. Author of nine books for children, editor of several poetry anthologies, and the former creative director of a small press, she is co-designer (with her son Ross Cowman) of two tabletop role-playing games for Heart of the Deernicorn. She also wrote and assisted her daughter Jody Cohlene Urbas in two productions of the play A Fine Circle of Friends. She landed at last in Olympia, Washington, via Bellingham, Bothell, Juanita, Kirkland, Mercer Island, Mt. Baker, Green Lake, Queen Anne, Pullman, Skyway, Renton & Cashmere, She divides her time & creative energies between writing, editing, game design & serving on the board of the Olympia Poetry Network, helping produce monthly poetry programs as well as special events. A Conspiracy of Blackbirds is her debut poetry collection.
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