Poem by Lynne Schmidt

Bubbles

This is supposed to be a still moment,

one where I sit,

face made up,

so when the light flashes, the lens captures what I don't typically see.

You reach into your pocket,

extract a small plastic container

and place it in my hands.

I sit, breath pushing air that is captured

into a bubble,

And this thing I’ve made is so, so temporary.

So we burst.

Almost as fast as the bubble.

But for the time our breath stayed contained

we were something beautiful.

Lynne Schmidt (she/her) is a mental health professional in Maine. Her unpublished memoir, The Right to Live: A Memoir of Abortion has received Maine Nonfiction Award and was a 2018 PNWA finalist, while her poetry has received the Editor's Choice Award for her poem, Baxter, from Frost Meadow Review, and her chapbook, Dead Dog Poems, was honorable mention from Pub House Books. Her work has appeared in Soft Cartel, RESIST/RECLAIM, Royal Rose, Maine Dog Magazine, Alyss Literary, Her Kind Vida, and others. When given the choice, Lynne prefers the company of her three dogs and one cat to humans.

She is a regular contributor for Marias at Sampaguitas.

Twitter: @LynneSchmidt  @Abortion Chat

Facebook: Lynn(e) Schmidt