Mother in Sheep’s Clothing

By Kiana McCrackin

I drink coffee warmed three times while
sweating in the clothes of sheep.
It sloshes in my belly as I shake
to songs my children choose
the wheels on the bus never stop going ‘round.

Sometimes people tell me:
you are a good mother 
I adjust the itchy wool,
swallow the howl on my tongue,
hold it in my lungs to bake.

The moon is yet a sliver in the sky,
still, I tremble in my clothes of sheep
quite a hot thing to wear 
over all my wolf’s fur
waiting, waiting in my hypodermis.
you are a good mother

words repeat words repeat words repeat
mantra echoing, 
to keep me from dissolving 
into what is true. 

Kiana McCrackin is a writer, a photographer (with a BFA from The Brooks Institute of Photography), a cloud gazer, and a mama. Kiana is eternally inspired by the emotions of the human experience and the landscapes she has called home; Alaska, California, and Washington. She currently resides in South Dakota where she is learning what the wind has to say and translating what the trees tell her.