That year it was 104 degrees for 27 days. The skies were full of rain that never fell. One night there was a crumpled body on the floor. It was my mother’s. She came back to life, but I never forgave her. That year there were 81 days where I was only allowed to speak to the apple tree. Green, green, green. But sometimes sour. Here are 53 days where she is heavy-handed. But the back-hand is quick. Here are 66 days where I stood as still as I could. Like a rabbit in the eye of a hawk. And here is another. And another. Another. Here is the hundred days where my mother thought I was a ghost. Here are the 13 days she went away. This is the day she buried the St. Joseph statue upside down in the front yard, and I dug it back up in the darkness, clover crunching under my feet, the neighbor’s Doberman finally quieted with bologna. This is all my hair on the floor. No one spoke my name aloud.
Born and raised in Cleveland,Donna Hunt’s poems have previously been published by Tin House, in Science Fair, and have also appeared in Diagram, Brooklyn Poets Anthology, and other journals and anthologies. She received her MFA from Queens University in Charlotte, where she had the opportunity to work with many recognized poets, including Claudia Rankine and Major Jackson. Donna was recently awarded a four-week full fellowship to the Vermont Studio Center, and her chapbook,The Coastline of Antarctica was published by Finishing Line Press. Donna spent years teaching and writing in Virginia and NYC, and moved back to Cleveland this September.