My Mother Told Me This Would Be Hard the only way my child will sleep is holding a toy dump truck it’s wood, and that makes me a good mother sorts shapes too, and i limit the time he spends delighting at a green frog and a purple penguin i whisper small promises read about an ice cream-eating caterpillar about the wheedle on the needle about a bunny named nicholas i sing dreams and big wishes into bob dylan lyrics thinking maybe he’ll ask me to dance with him if it plays one day at his wedding one day i try to teach him words my mother taught me tell him his dadu’s adrak chai was without rivals and haldi will stain everything yellow but i have forgotten how to say i am sorry for insisting on lunchables for shaming you when you packed parathas rolled with love in the early morning for calling them gross weird unamerican the only way my child will sleep is holding a small american flag he waves it slowly as he drifts off it’s secure, and that makes me a good mother
The daughter of Indian immigrants, Sunita Theiss was born and raised in Georgia. She is an alumna of VONA/Voices, and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in MER VOX, Jaggery, Whale Road Review, pidgeonholes, and others. She still lives in Georgia with her family, not far from her childhood home.
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