The Moya View

Tag: daughters

  • the   spaces   she   left   behind

    the spaces she left behind

    they turned    brown    before   you    arrived by    the    time  you   came   on    them swiped  the    dust    off  turned   the    pages they    were crumbling    you never   looked at    the rest    surrendering   them   to   silence     you      could      lie     down    again          now there    was   nothing   between   you     now the    rain     was    beginning     outside or      was      it        just     the    …

  • Mother Are You Proud of Me?

    Mother Are You Proud of Me?

    They tore your body apart.You died among walls of infusion boxes.On the television, the Pope riding by in his Pope mobile.Are you proud of mewhen I cry?Are you proud of mewhen I don’t?Peeking through the slats of the living room blinds,I discovered your body slumped in the reclining chair.Will I ever know the truth of…

  • Perfectly Good Food

    Perfectly Good Food

    “It’s perfectly good food,” Wei’s mugin (mother) would say to her. “Waste not, want not,” she added to her mantra. The chop suey of existence was her muse, art.Today was her love letter to the dumpling, an ode to starch: a cheddar cheese scallion pierogi with a soy sauce/duck sauce/hot mustard packet drizzle culled from…

  • Mothers and Daughters: A Bee in Her Bonnet

    Mothers and Daughters: A Bee in Her Bonnet

    Amongst the leftovers she would sit in the old shed, with its corrugated tin roof and clapboard siding, feeling the heat come to her, a caress floating from the ground. She watched her mother delicatelyflour the last of the catfish. The shed use to be a playground but now it was a hideout- somewhere to…

  • Mothers and Daughters:  The Strawberry Smear

    Mothers and Daughters: The Strawberry Smear

    It may be hard to remember through all the broken plate moments that your daughter once looked you in the eye,that you were mermaids swimming in synchronicity in a clear blue ocean, that there was a time when her ideas would sprawl out of her head all over the homework, a big bang onto to…

  • Opening Her White Parasol

    Opening Her White Parasol

    With the push of a button, the delicate porcelain releases lace ribs from the handle- little dove wings- shading her dreams, memories of father, creating this object to protect her from the shriveling sun.