A poem by Barbara Smith

  One of Each You were nearly Nemain and Macha for a while, as I reversed into the idea of two not one. I turned to books to see how to deal with motherhood again. Born in the hot-house of Gemini, Dáire, you were all ready for the bull’s-eye. Small, dark, but sturdy like an oak; you emerged – just like I imagined the stoic … Continue reading A poem by Barbara Smith