For a Young Boy I’ve Never Met
Sosha Pinson

Someone I knew died last night‐‐
heroin overdose. She orphaned her two year old son

& people gossip over cardboard coffee cups
at least he’s young enough
to forget her & I nod yes, though
I was that age when my birth mom stopped visiting,

she’d already left by then. So I know how easy it is
to forget a woman cut out of pictures, renamed

an awkward pause & pupated in silence, I
became less her daughter. His story
isn’t mine to tell & it would be wrong

to say I’m jealous
his mom is dead & I have killed mine

on paper dozens of times
I have invented a god to call mother
because it was easier
than giving the poor woman
her freedom. You think I don’t know

she deserves it? That leaving didn’t make her any less
a woman? A dead woman is easier

to forgive.


Sosha Pinson is an Eastern Kentucky poet. Her poems can be found or are forthcoming in the following: Circe’s Lament: Anthology of Wild Women Poetry, Still: The Journal, Minerva Rising, among others.

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