pg. 82

TRY BEING A MOTHER FOR A DAY

TRY BEING A MOTHER FOR A DAY

TRY BEING A MOTHER FOR A DAY

TRY BEING A MOTHER FOR A DAY


Minahat Ahmed







poetry, nov 23
HEADER PHOTO: 깊은밤 갑자기 ©
Nam-a Pictures Co., Ltd., 1981








A piercing slap cuts through air
Lands on her left cheek
Swaddled between me and her mother is the young child with her bluegreenblue cheek
Crouched on my lap is her brother who eats away his finger
Whitebabywhite are his cheeks
Letting out a soft whimper she digs into her mother’s chest
Shying away from the world that saw her ignominious moment.

The third line of sweat trickles down my back
How far is my home?
Now she laughs and tells her mother

A funny story, it must be
The young mother is now smiling and wiping the sweat off her face
The remorse on her face, now visible as wrinkles
Her boy has now chosen my fingers.











AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO


Minahat Ahmed studied English Literature because she wanted minimal interaction with real people. She always laughs at the wrong times during meetings.  As a teacher who rarely teaches and a writer who never writes, she looks at the world with constant awe and picks up story prompts whenever she leaves her house. As a delusional being, she continues believing in the innate goodness of humankind despite reading the newspaper everyday which proves her otherwise. She wants to be alive when she dies. 



















TRY BEING A MOTHER FOR A DAY

 Minahat Ahmed

poetry, nov 23
HEADER PHOTO: 깊은밤 갑자기 ©
Nam-a Pictures Co., Ltd., 1981






A piercing slap cuts through air
Lands on her left cheek
Swaddled between me and her mother is the young child with her bluegreenblue cheek
Crouched on my lap is her brother who eats away his finger
Whitebabywhite are his cheeks
Letting out a soft whimper she digs into her mother’s chest
Shying away from the world that saw her ignominious moment.

The third line of sweat trickles down my back
How far is my home?
Now she laughs and tells her mother

A funny story, it must be
The young mother is now smiling and wiping the sweat off her face
The remorse on her face, now visible as wrinkles
Her boy has now chosen my fingers.







AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO
AUTHOR BIO


Minahat Ahmed studied English Literature because she wanted minimal interaction with real people. She always laughs at the wrong times during meetings.  As a teacher who rarely teaches and a writer who never writes, she looks at the world with constant awe and picks up story prompts whenever she leaves her house. As a delusional being, she continues believing in the innate goodness of humankind despite reading the newspaper everyday which proves her otherwise. She wants to be alive when she dies.
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