DOWNTOWN CROSSING
by Mairéad Byrne

A cup of coffee can be a mother.
A cigarette can be a mother.
A blanket can be a mother.
A wool cap can be a mother.
A coat can be a mother.
A booth can be a mother.
A warm grating can be a mother.
You can be your own mother.

I found this poem in a really cool anthology called Not for Mothers Only: Contemporary Poems on Child-Getting and Child-Rearing (Fence Books, 2007)

Also, Mairéad Byrne’s collection The Best of (What’s Left of) Heaven (Publishing Genius, 2010) is available now.