Category Archives: Michelle Brittan Rosado

Michelle Brittan Rosado Second Child Abecedarian Again: this is how itBegins. What to say to the wordless?Count: one, two, three. Clouds, blocks,Drops of rain.Everything is Finite. IGo on numbering How many days, weeks, monthsI have held him outside my body. Keeping the score,List of possibleMisfortunes weNegotiated Out of to get here. One:Pulling myself out of the wrecked car, noQuickeningContinue reading “Michelle Brittan Rosado – Second Child Abecedarian”

Michelle Brittan Rosado Postpartum Ars Poetica III: Work The flower shop marquee says, rememberyour loved ones. A line appearsbetween my brows and stays there  the rest of my life. I tell all my poems to Siri. Write a note. Add more. She thinks the poem has ended  because a driver cut me off and I stopped speaking. ThreeContinue reading “Michelle Brittan Rosado – Postpartum Ars Poetica III: Work”

Michelle Brittan Rosado Postpartum Ars Poetica II: Leave watery reflections in profile—mother, infant, stroller—appear & disappearwalking alongside the windowed storefronts at the mall—interrupted by plaster & columns—like dreamingthen waking—these intervals to measure the days & nights—apparitions—we cross stripes in the floor made by skylights—once shadow—a flash of light Author’s note: The poems in this series all use the imageContinue reading “Michelle Brittan Rosado – Postpartum Ars Poetica II: Leave”

Michelle Brittan Rosado Postpartum Ars Poetica I: Room My privacy as small as a strawberry seed. I pick my life  from between my teeth. I say,shh, shh. And I recite  this poem in my head 11 times before I’ll get to write it. I want  to be outside. Shh. I can only see narrow  columns of the purpling sunset through the vertical blinds.  Author’sContinue reading “Michelle Brittan Rosado – Postpartum Ars Poetica I: Room”

Michelle Brittan Rosado Palmar Grasp Reflex II —a tower of mirrors curving toward childhood. No one told me  the memories would come back. No one told me some memories  would never return. An unending campaignof feeling. Even what I can’t recall is in this room now. His crybefore the limits of language.  Our hands make patterns the ancestorsContinue reading “Michelle Brittan Rosado – Palmar Grasp Reflex II”