My mother appears
unexpected, uninvited
at my foster parents’ door.
Her words drill through the air
like a machine gun
ordering Mutti to pack my bags.
She’s leaving with me!
Mutti rushes with my foster sister
and me to our bedroom,
leaving Papi to dual
with my mother. She shouts.
He fires back reasons
I shouldn’t go. As Mutti pulls
my clothes from drawers, I think—
At last, my mother’s come for me!
But my foster sister’s stricken face
causes my eyes to water.
I hear Papi shout—Leave her,
we’ll adopt her! For a moment
I fear I might have to stay.
Then I hear —No! and a fist
slams against our kitchen table.
Minutes later, I am pulled
from my room by my mother.
I blink, and I’m outside running
with her to a waiting taxi.
My eight years of foster care are over.
* My foster parents, like my biological parents, were German immigrants to Canada. I used the German terms Mutti and Papi for them
Alice G. Waldert is a poet and short story writer. Her work has appeared in literary journals in print and online across the United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom. Recent works have appeared in Canthius Magazine, the Rockvale Review, and The Marbled Sigh. She is working on a collection of poems about her experiences as a foster child. Alice holds an M.A. from Carleton University and an MFA in writing from Manhattanville University.