Joanna M. Weston

mother rode on leather and touched wood
in the first car a young soldier offered

he wanted to kiss peonies into her skin
but she took the gun from his mouth
threw it among irises and gave him hawthorn
to have and to hold

she went to chalk hills and orchards
made infants under laburnum trees
and painted a background of flowers
where babies throve on war’s leftover blood

she framed her children with bark
kept them on the wall for soldiers to mourn
while she slept at noon among cherry blossom
white and white above artillery fire