Mother Scorpion by Rachel Boury Baxter

Martyr in mom jeans,

poet in pajamas,

sage in sweatpants

sorceress on a stained couch,

priestess pumping breasts,

she gives her body,s

she is given this -

healer in house shoes,

queen of loose parts.

you are a mother scorpion,

young indispensable

driven mad by thousands

of tiny pincers latched

on to your back, you’re

born again nocturnal,

mother scorpion,

all claws and tongue,

tasked with the momentous

feat of survival.

efore we knew you existed,

I wandered through a discount store,

Bob Seger’s guitar shimmering tinny

through the ceiling speakers.

My steps were slow and calculated-

I couldn’t remember the last time

I was truly alone and, somehow,

I knew it was not now.

Shopping cart wheels,

a pinch in my gut,

there was peace in buying

things I did not need,

I knew there wasn’t much time

Left to be free.

The selected poems are found in Baxter’s book Mother Scorpion. Purchase the book by following the link code below.