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  • Writer's pictureLammergeier Staff

Dysgraphia | AJ Wolff

Updated: Jul 19, 2019

I am a widepalm stamp

of the mapletree swatting

another inevitable morning.

Maybe Daylight

is just another meter I’m forgetting.

Everything is art if you turn it on its belly



My son taught me that. With stacks. And Stacks.

Of print order slips. And homework. He avoids

making eye contact with.

So, instead

—he draws the same line a hundred

times, but can’t get it

to adjust.

That’s too small—he erases

and redraws

the exact same one

He does this several times/ before flinching:

There. He/lies: That’s better.

I hold my arms out and ask

the sun to feed me, too, but

I can’t adjust my lines, either.

my neighbors ask what kind of yoga you call that and i ask how their children are doing in school

and we sway our heads nervously and no one can figure out the space of times like these or

is that just me/ us?

The questions

shake and fall around us

like leaves or stars, but it’s

Sunday morning

in the muddy spring

and I tell

MySon this

is how we are free

my wide palms, my wild fingers

teach him something, about space


frustrates him.

AJ Wolff is a queer single mother, feminist, poet (she/her/hers). Her work is published in Rising Phoenix Review, L'Éphémère Review, Rust + Moth, Burning House Press, Riggwelter, and other generous presses.

Twitter: @AJBigbadWolff



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