SWWIM sustains and celebrates women poets by connecting creatives across generations and by curating a living archive of contemporary poetry, while solidifying Miami as a nexus for the literary arts.
She knew how to be forgiven: Filled to spilling over with the holy spirit, she never missed those all-day Sunday Masses on the Catholic channel, Mass in person at the church. She was a total pro at penitence.
Morphed to mother at fourteen to four small sisters and a brother, she packed her brilliance into attic, became an empty confessional. When we emerged from service, went to Sunday dinner at King’s Table Buffet, she waited till we left to use the bathroom, then dumped
the table’s After-Eights into her best blue purse. That first time when I emerged too soon, pretended I saw nothing. She took collection from another table’s bowl to even out the emptiness, lips pursed. I thought I had escaped, but then her notice crossed
the room, caught me as I tried to fix my own reflection in a mirror, cheeks staining glass. She would not meet my eyes, just simpered, said I’ll pray for you to lose those thighs before you’re old enough to date.
My inheritance. Months after she had passed, we unearthed her secret cache, saw the way she had buffeted her heart with candy in her drawers: mints and chocolate kisses, tootsie rolls rolled into girdles.
While her husband called her Sugar, trapped inside her housewife life, she minted hunger into currency, pawned away her pain, hairshirt nothing but a mouth.
Alison Hurwitz has been featured in Global Poemic, Words and Whispers Journal, Poetry in the Time of Coronavirus Volumes 1 and 2, Tiferet Journal, and Writing in a Woman’s Voice, and is forthcoming in Amethyst Review, Book of Matches Lit Magazine, and Anti-Heroin Chic. She hosts a free online poetry reading, Well-Versed Words. Alison lives with her husband, sons and rescue dog in North Carolina. See more at alisonhurwitz.com.
