The poems written to her children reflect a passionate mother-love in the detailed beauty of imagery. The dead babies in glass jars have been transformed and the living babies are represented with love and tenderness:
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses.
I rock you like a boat
Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor
Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new
Brother is making
His balloon squeak like a cat.
… He bites,
Back, fat jug
Contemplating a world clear as water