Your Mother Katharyn Howd Machan

I saw Kennedy get shot she says
when you were a baby at home.
I took you to Woodstock she says
and you peed where nude people swam.
And now you stitch wings to old keys
and shape giant birds of paper?
You get paid for making art
about books the whole world reads?
You tell your children you must stay
as far from me as you’re able?
In the voice beyond her voice
you hear your young self silent.
In secret words she tries to swear
she never let him touch you.
I was there in Dallas she says.
I wore tie-dye on Yasgur’s farm.
How could you ever believe I would let
anyone do you harm?

BEFORE THE RAZOR button ver 2

For three and a half decades Katharyn Howd Machan, picking up where Rod Serling left off, has taught creative writing at Ithaca College in the Finger Lakes region of New York State. Her specialty courses, besides in poetry, are Writing Science Fiction and Fantasy, Women and Fairy Tales, and first-year seminars called Fairy Tales: The Hero’s Journey. Her poems have appeared in 32 published collections (most recently WILD GRAPES: POEMS OF FOX [a kitsune shape-shifter] and many magazines, anthologies, and textbooks.

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