Grrl Talk Highlights

Here are some highlights from the seven grrl-friendly sections of Grrl Talk.

Grrl, Changes You Never Dreamed

In "She Hears But Does Not Look," Kim Lane reminds us in visceral poetry the essence of motherhood. And when silence once again fills the room behind her / there lingers the / constant / loud / desire / to press her closed lips / to the spot on his young forehead / that is eternally fragrant / and soft as / warm caramel.

Jennifer Marine's "Two Crescent Moons" takes us on a haunting sojourn through one woman's bereaved eyes as she gives birth to a stillborn babe. I should feel something more, I think. I should be wracked with sobs; keening, wailing in absolute anguish.

It Made Me the Woman I Am Today

Kimberly Cockrill Pflaum turns the clock back in her hilarious essay, "The Behemoths of 7th Street," recounting her life as a would-be go-go girl in the desert abode she shared with cockroaches that could move faster than wind-up Hot Wheels. I cringed at the thought of its ugly underbelly on my skin and barely opened my mouth to call for help. What if it scuttled into my throat?

In "Homemaking with Mrs. America," Michelle Peterson recalls her early life with a singular, stinging clarity: My small house was a strange brick structure. Blobs of dripping, petrified cement oozed between each brick in a style known as weeping mortar, like sadness from within that even the house couldn't contain.

Couldn't Help Myself - And Even If I Could…

In "Love Song of a Summer Night" Cindy Huyser lays her feelings bare. Suppose again / the singing of the frogs / Voices call and respond / down the creek / loud, insistent, and hungry.

Julie Sucha Anderson's "Passion Flowers at Rest," shows us how careful tending of your gardens can nurture love everlasting. Long ago, my passion for gardening preserved my marriage. Where has that beautiful garden gone?

So, I'm Supposed to Learn Something From This?

"Destiny Will Have to Wait" is E. S. Carlson's witty narration of her repeated foiled attempts to craft a novel. My command of language would be comparable to Twain's, with the perspicuity of Jane Austen and the epigrammatic fluency of Ogden Nash.

"Notes from Mom" is light-hearted advice from the perspective of Pamela Kemp Parker, daughter of a wise woman: Bores and boors and the humor-impaired require special handling, but that's where your extraordinary imagination will come to the rescue.

Oh Yeah? My Reflection Says Older, Wiser, Better

Ruthe Winegarten's poem, "I Clean Out Dresser Drawers," written in 1978, reveals the author's reflections on her third divorce, pondering what the potential next wife might think. After I'm gone, the next one will grudgingly say, / "Well, at least she was a good housekeeper." / She'll never know / I waited 'til the end /to tend domestic chores.

Carolyn Scarborough gives us a closer look at someone with whom we can all identify: "The Invisible Woman." She's journeying through patience instead of Patagonia, brightening her eyes with wisdom instead of mascara. She may not stand out in a crowd, but she's cool where it counts - on the inside.

Sister, How Can I Help?

Debra Winegarten's poem, "On Losing Mom," reflects on her mother's emotional turmoil. But no, she slipped away slowly / Lingering, peeking out / Sounding just enough like herself / To make you think she was still there / In there, far, far, back, struggling to get out.

"Day of the Dying" is Bernadette Noll's moving homage to her dying father who took his peaceful last breath while his entire family, including the young children, gathered around his bed. We held each other in a tight embrace and I hoisted his body up into position. Who thinks when we lift up our little babies, that one day they will lift us?

Imagine If…

O'Henry award winner, Robin Bradford, slips us deftly out of the daily grind and into her steamy fantasy in "Pretend." The French man looks at me straddling him, like I am the most beautiful machine he's ever seen. In a warped mirror of chrome our legs crisscross, connect, never end.

"Beth's Last Night" is Heather Osterman's tale of love unrequited in a very untraditional way. When one of us wants something unattainable, the other offers a substitute of immediate gratification. What I want is a job - what you need is a game of pool. What I want is true love - what you need are some leather pants.