The Common Good

Mother's Week: Homecoming, A Poem

By Stacy Barton

Suddenly you are there,

the smell of womanhood about you.

    Hi Mom.

Ripe with dance,

your body moves like words on a poets tongue.

    We took our shoes off.

You land on a stool

like a child

defying your pinned up curls

and purple gown.

    I‘m starved.

Devouring cold pizza like an athlete after a game

you tell,

not much,


I sit as still as possible and smell your hair.

You do not know.

    I only got three pictures.

I have only one, I think, but do not say:

a tiny profile,

turned up nose,

rosebud lips.

     We danced a lot.


Stacy Barton is a writer, poet and playwright who lives with her husband Todd and the last of their four kids in Maitland, Fla., where they’ve made their home for 20 years. When the house is quiet, she writes for Disney or works on her new novel or plays with construction paper for old time’s sake. Read more from Stacy in her collection of short stories, Surviving Nashville, or on

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