Fathom Mag


A poem

Published on:
February 12, 2018
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Quilting our son’s blanket
over the past two weeks
I see my hands are no longer steady.
Those calloused instruments of swollen flesh,
bones that bend and shiver.

Hands like these, I’ve been told, aren’t for the faint of heart.
They’ve wiped, scrubbed, cooked and
through years that can’t be bought.

Why do I give without
of return?

Eréndira Ramírez-Ortega
Eréndira Ramírez-Ortega writes fiction, essays, and poetry. She’s writing a novel. Find her list of published work here: www.erortega.com/writings.

Cover image by Cristian Newman.

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