Issue #22.6 A Poem by Bethany Jarmul
When My Daughter Finally Starts Walking
I try to put my anxieties to rest, tuck them in with a kiss on their
crinkled foreheads—
images of her crawling to kindergarten, fifth grade, across a stage with graduation cap, down the aisle in lace.
Ankle pronation, the therapist says. Orthotics can straighten her out.
What type of brace or cast will straighten out my swirling, shattered, scattered thoughts?
Perhaps, a miracle drug for overproduction of mom guilt, a tablet sold next to the diet pills at CVS
with a bleached-smile woman promising parental perfection.
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Bethany Jarmul is an Appalachian writer and poet. She’s the author of two chapbooks and one poetry collection. Her work has been published in many magazines including Rattle, Brevity, Salamander, and One Art. Her writing was selected for Best Spiritual Literature 2023 and Best Small Fictions 2024, and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, The Best of the Net, Best Microfiction, and Wigleaf Top 50. Connect with her at bethanyjarmul.com or on social media: @BethanyJarmul.
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