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Winter/Spring 2020

Dream of the Good Mother

James Wyshynski

Chattahoochee River, Roswell, GA


At thirteen, each night, I manned a ham radio
that I built pre-acne, its guts filled
with vacuum tubes, blotches of solder.

I fiddled dials, combed frequencies.
Years slid by – I married, made conversation,
children, mistakes, coffee. Moved through bad

diets, decisions, diapers – a ghost
through the curtain of the world. Now, I sit in
cubes, waiting rooms, traffic jams.

Today, river fog curling over my windshield,
I waste light and love, waiting for my GPS to go
catch up, for its voice to become her voice,
for her to lead me home.

 

[Check out James Wyshynski's back porch interview]