Poetry by Lindsay Cortright

              stanze CC



Weights and Measures

My mother and I grew up in homes as still 
as the earth is steady. We learned to listen
to the groan of our foundation shifting, habitual
displacement of the ground beneath us. 

Softer than their serrated tongues, echoing
deeper than their laughter, the movements 
heavier than the brick he hurled 
at her face in the front yard, and more binding 

than any knot we tied
to the hope for a better future.
Our veins thrum to its beat. It follows me
to the basement and the piles of laundry 

where I sort light and dark, red and white.
I don’t have an antagonist. I don’t know if 
I am the witness, or maybe the defendant, 
in this case. I am guilty 

and unrepentant of looking too close 
at someone else’s scars: collateral 
damage. Our blood is thicker     
than the eyebrows we tend

daily, the saline brimming 
on our lash line, the glass of wine, 
half-full. We can't fix 
the people who raise us, but we both try

anyway. I am still trying 
not to try. My thoughts sway to the beat
of their own ragged syncopation, one 
late night away from stumbling 

off the stage. I retreat
to the backyard swing set with my anger.
The gravitation accelerates every high 
but most of the time, I can only feel 

the intervals between - the suspension. 
The dropped beat takes your breath 
away, turns your stomach outside in.
My mother and I don’t need

a trigger; we are the catalyst. Imagine
being "off your rocker:" out
of rhythm, but still tethered
to the seat, your mass staggering

its steady sway. Sometimes the motion stops.
I climb back to the seat, and tie the knot
tighter, gripping the rope like it will save
me. I look at my mother rocking 

beside me and wonder how 
she learned to hold on-
to the seat. I wonder how long 
she'll stay there.

​

Lindsay (she/her) is a research project manager by day and a queer writer, cat mom, and curious human the rest of the time. You can usually find her talking passionately about her latest project or reading about how not to procrastinate as a form of procrastination. You can find her in multiple places on the web, starting here: LindsayCortright.com.

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