Wrought & Found

Original poems and found images

–by Mia Sara

“Late to the Picnic”


When I say nature
think last exit before mother.
When I say mother think
she never knew what hit her.
A passing fancy.
When I raise my voice hear my
balconies fill.
A son is still a song.
If there are to be rosebuds
look before leaping
under the bus.
Use your mouth.
A kiss with frozen lips
Is better than a wooden nickel.
Don’t throw sand
it blinds the bird in hand.
Picnics are always a fiasco.
Is it too late to fix
the bones to set
the table stones stage
the distance between
my eyes my big spend
buying the time to carry him
when I should have
let him stand

Mia Sara is an actress and poet living in Los Angeles. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in poemmemoirstory, Pembroke Magazine, The Write Room, PANK, Cultural Weekly, The Kit Kat Review, Forge, The Dirty Napkin, St. Ann’s Review, among others. For more please visit: http://wheretofindmiasara.tumblr.com/

  • Deb Johnson

    That reads to me like a wonderful meditation on motherhood. Maybe your son makes you crazy sometimes, but what wonderful poetry he drives you to produce!

  • LizTN

    Holy moly mama. Those last 8 lines! Superb.

  • Matej

    Love the title. Love the poem. Definitely love the poet. And yes, picnics are always a fiasco indeed.

  • Mia!
    You read my mind . . .
    “When I raise my voice hear my
    balconies fill.”
    Ouch and motherhood is not recommended for the weak of voice.
    I love this poem.

  • Mia, your work is always so personal and transcendent. Technically speaking, I’m not even a mother, but the ache of regret feels so familiar and in my skin. You bring alive the humanity of the impossible task of loving. Beautiful.

  • Joe Kennedy

    Mia, Beautiful as always ! Thanks, I needed that. Hey, I resemble that remark. xoxo JK