Late August, 1968.

A Quonset hut

Married student housing

North of the river

World War II issue

No a.c. in a summer

Of crippling heat

Record humidity


Eight months pregnant

with me, my mother

swelters beneath its metal arc

her student teaching

not yet begun

she’s home all summer,


Does crosswords as,

a few blocks away, my father,

working extra shifts downtown,

comes to terms with

the child-seed he’s planted.


Take three things

from this snapshot:

The heat.

My mother’s taut,

veined belly.

Her solitude.


She steps

from another

icy shower

stands drying

before the fan

eats a frozen

orange slice






Sara Anderson is a native Iowan. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from Hamline University. She lives in the Twin Cities with her husband and daughter. She has an affinity for tuxedo cats.









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